Joan Arc's Legend
by A Lovestruck A2
Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it. Fem!Jaune, rated for safety, set during Fable 3
1. A Harsh Lesson

_**A/N: Hello all, and welcome to a brand new story that came to me playing Fable. I've always been a lover of the Fable games, ever since I played the first one as a kid (an eight year old playing a game with hookers. What could go wrong?).**_

 _ **So, why not put Joan Arc and a few other RWBY characters in the world? I mean, why not?**_

 _ **How hard could it be?**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***A Harsh Lesson***

Klein had been a butler for a very long time, having once served under the previous king of Albion many years ago. However, he always managed to find excitement in his line of work, ever since he learned of the king's Heroic powers. It made an otherwise dreary position much more fulfilling.

He pulled back the heavy red curtains of the bedroom aside, letting out a sigh upon laying eyes on the haze coming from Bowerstone Industrial. "What a dreadfully sorry sight." He missed the time he spent serving the old king, when he could open windows and gaze at the capital's beauty for hours before the Age of Industry came to the country twenty years ago.

A feeble yawn sounded behind him, and the butler chuckled, turning around. "Such a beautiful day to waste in bed, don't you agree?"

In the regal bed lay the youngest member of the royal family and the current heir to the throne, Princess Joan. Her long blonde locks were a tangled mess, and she lazily blinked one blue eye open.

She groaned in protest and covered her face with the blanket, hiding away from the bright sunlight. "Go away, Klein…"

"Now, now," Klein gently chided, a smile on his face; her response to being woken up reminded him of the time when her older brother, King Logan, was still a child. "That is hardly a response fit for a princess. I'm afraid it is time for you to rise from the comfort of bed."

He noticed the lump under the heavy blanket that could only be Joan's dog, and he went to pull the blanket off when Joan wrapped it tighter against her body, her head poking out briefly. "Ten more minutes, please…"

Klein's mustache ruffled in amusement. She hadn't changed a bit since she was a child, whereas Logan eventually outgrew his dislike of mornings.

"I wish I could let you, madam." He gave the princess an apologetic smile. "But you have quite the busy day ahead. A lot of time will be spent in the court, I'm afraid." He knew how much Joan hated dealing with the nobles, and wished he had the power to change her schedule. But if Logan wanted her there, she'd have no choice but to show up, whether she liked it or not.

Joan reluctantly sat up, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. "Let me guess, my brother can't bear to be without me while he meets with those snobs? Fine, I'll take pity on him and get up so he doesn't have to face them alone."

Her dog Zwei was lying on his back, and the blonde gave his stomach a rub. "Come on, boy. If I have to get up, so do you."

Zwei let out a happy bark, and the corgi jumped off the bed. He began to look expectantly at Klein, and the butler began to sweat a little. "Don't look at me like that; that pitiful stare of yours won't work…"

"It's so much easier to just give him his pets," Joan said with a grin, swinging her legs out of bed with all the grace of a princess. "I don't know why you insist on torturing yourself every day, especially since you always give in."

Klein finally cracked, and he leaned over to scratch behind Zwei's ears. "Fine…good dog."

"Told you." Joan gave him a smug smile, now brushing her long hair in front of the large mirror that sat on her dresser.

The butler let out a snort and rolled his eyes. "What a pair you two are. The kingdom is doomed."

"Hey!" Joan protested. "I'm not that bad."

Klein could only smile; she was as much of a pleasure to serve as her father had been. "If you'll kindly follow me, madam, perhaps we can find suitable clothing for today's activities. Lady Yang is most eager to speak to you this morning and is waiting for you in the garden. No doubt you'll want to look your best for your young 'friend'."

"What are you insinuating?" Joan asked, a faint dusting of pink now flushing her cheeks.

Klein smirked. Lady Yang was of noble blood, a member of the powerful Xiao Long family from eastern Samarkand, across the ocean. Her and Joan were very close from her arrival to Albion's shores nearly four years ago, and he wasn't surprised to find evidence of them being involved romantically.

"Contrary to what you may believe, you and Lady Yang are not as subtle as you think." He snorted. "You should count yourself lucky you have a butler who knows whether or not to ask questions when they happen to find articles of clothing that most definitely do not belong to the princess in her bedroom."

Joan's face turned a bright shade of red, but the princess didn't throw a flustered retort back at him. Instead, she fell in behind him, her hair now straightened. "I take it you made sure I only picked something befitting of my title to wear?"

Klein nodded, pointing to two neat piles of clothes he had already prepared for her while she was still asleep. "I have. I believe you'll find either to be suitable, although I personally would recommend you pick the more practical of the two, since Sir Peter is eager to continue your combat training today."

Joan nodded; her mentor, Sir Peter Port, was a respected soldier and fought alongside her father many times during his forging of the kingdom. He trained her older brother, and now her.

She picked up the pile consisting of white leggings, a blue skirt, ankle boots, and a light blue shirt; it would be far easier to move around in, compared to the long flowing dress and slippers.

She got changed in a hurry, Klein turning his back for her to have her privacy, and when she was done, he gave her a nod of approval. "Ah, splendid choice. I'm sure Lady Yang will most approve. You ought to make you way to her now. And I would recommend avoiding your brother until your scheduled court appearance; King Logan is rumored to be in quite the foul mood this morning. Have a good day, madam."

"Will do. Bye Klein." Joan opened her doors and was greeted by bright sunshine and a gentle breeze. She inhaled deeply, breathing in, and she gave Zwei a gentle pat on the head. "Come on, boy. Let's go."

Zwei barked, and the two set off. Two guards saluted her as she walked past, their rifles freshly polished. "My princess."

"Princess."

Joan gave them a respectful nod back; her brother always said it was imperative that you treat those beneath you with the same respect as you would with someone above you. As such, she always made sure she was respectful to everyone who crossed her path, whether it be one of the many servants working in the castle or a visiting noble.

When she walked down the stairs leading into the garden, Zwei ran ahead a little bit, barking happily at a bunch of birds that were resting on the railing. She rolled her eyes, giving him a playful nudge. "Zwei! Did you have to?"

Zwei merely barked in response with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Joan continued her way through the garden, noticing the fine condition the hedges were in; they had been trimmed, and recently. _'Someone's been hard at work. I should find out who it was and get my brother to float some extra gold their way.'_

She spotted Yang hovering over the garden's railing, and she jogged over to her. The noble was wearing a black and yellow dress, her hair an untamable mess as always. Zwei ran on ahead, and Yang chuckled when the dog greeted her with happy licks. "Oh, the brave knight has come to rescue me. But you'd be awful in a fight, you big softie."

"I'll protect you, my dearest." Joan pretended to be a boastful knight, flexing her arms.

"I don't know." Yang grinned mischievously, sticking her tongue out. "You don't exactly look intimidating, either. How about you give me a demonstration of those abilities of yours?"

"Yannnng!" Joan protested, looking around nervously. "There are others watching! What if one of them tells my brother?"

"They won't be telling him something he doesn't already know," Yang said with a scoff. "Now, come on. Show me what you got."

Joan sighed, but she leant in and gave her a gentle peck on the lips. "There. Are you happy now?"

"For now, I suppose it'll do nicely." Yang's smile turned into a frown, and she shook her head. "By Avo, I thought you'd never get up. Did Klein tell you I wanted to speak to you?"

"Yes." Joan nodded. "Did something happen?"

"I'm not sure," Yang admitted. "But, everyone in the castle seems to be upset with your brother. More than usual. And it's even worse down in the city."

She leaned on the railing with a heavy sigh, looking down at the factories of Bowerstone Industrial below. "You hear such terrible stories. Listen, they say a factory worker was executed this morning. I'm pretty sure it's nothing more than a dumb rumor, but you know how fast gossip travels in the city. The staff in the castle are anxious. I told them you'd speak to them. Will you do that? I admit I'm a little worried of what'll happen if you don't calm things down."

Joan gave a shrug, shuffling her feet. "If you think it'll help." She still was nervous when speaking to crowds, despite her many court appearances, but if push came to shove, she was capable of swallowing that fear and delivering a quick speech.

"I do." Yang nodded. "The people may fear the king, but they still care greatly for their princess."

She extended her hand, winking. "Come on, you. I'll escort you back to the castle, your highness."

"Don't call me that." Joan let out a sigh. "You know how much I can't stand it. It's not like I have any actual power."

"That's a lie, and you know it," Yang scolded. "Your opinion matters greatly to your brother, whether you know it or not."

Joan took her hand, and she frowned. The news she had just received about a worker being executed was disturbing. Sure, her brother's policies had grown a little harsher during his reign, but for him to actually kill someone? It didn't seem to fit who he was as a person. "I can't believe he would've had a worker killed."

"I agree." Yang nodded. "But at the same time, I think he might be ill or something. He's changed so much, and he always looks exhausted. Maybe his duties are affecting him somehow? Has he said a word to you about anything?"

"Not at all." Joan shook her head. "He always gives me the same smile, and tells me everything is fine and I don't need to worry about it just yet."

"Hmm. The way he said that..." Yang pursed her lips. "It makes it sound like it's something you'll have to worry about in the future. Maybe when you take over."

"I hope that's not for a long time." Joan's shoulders slumped a little. "I'm not ready to become the queen. I know I'm not."

Yang gave her a nudge in the ribs, cupping her cheek. "Hey, chin up. You can't let the workers in the castle see you sulking like this; they'll be demanding the head of whoever made you upset."

Joan smiled. "You're right."

She lead Yang to the kitchens, and she chuckled when she saw a blackened chicken desperately flapping its wings in an attempt to avoid being shot by one of the stewards. "Well, you definitely don't see that every day."

Yang laughed too, and they stopped outside to listen in on the conversation inside.

"Well, I heard all he did was stand up for one of the kids working in the factory," murmured Bryn.

"Who knows where it ends?" Poppy sighed. "Next thing you know, it's one of this of that gets the headsman's axe."

"Quit your damned gossiping," the steward ordered, reloading his rifle. "And straighten the bloody clothes before the king comes down."

Joan and Yang decided to enter, and the steward bowed his head respectfully, placing his weapon down. "Ah, your majesty. Such an honor to have you here today. The staff have convened to hear your words. Whenever you're ready."

"You got this," Yang whispered, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go and stepping back to give her some space.

Joan breathed in to ease the nervousness that pounded away in her heart, and she began her speech. "You've all been through some difficult times, and the king has been too preoccupied to treat you as he should lately. For that, I will apologize for his actions as of late. I ask you to ignore any wild rumors you may happen to hear. I promise to speak to my brother about improving conditions for both you and your families outside the castle. Thank you."

Into the kitchens thundered Sir Peter Port, and the mustached man let out a loud snort. "You call that a royal speech? You didn't shout, you didn't threaten, and you were actually reasonable. I say, that was bloody marvelous. Now, are you ready for today's training?"

"Try and bring her back in one piece, will you?" Yang asked, heading back into the gardens.

Joan fell in behind her mentor, and Port looked back at her. "I suppose you heard the rumor, too?"

Joan gave a nod in response.

"Well, I'm afraid they're quite true. I didn't want to believe it, either," Port said with a sigh. "But if your brother is willing to do this, who knows what he'll do next. In the meantime, the mood inside the castle gets more uneasy with each day."

He gave her a pat on the shoulder, his large mustache ruffling. "You do have a knack for reaching out to people, though. They all looked up to you back there. The way they look up to a leader."

"You think so?" Joan asked. "I honestly thought I was awful at it." _'No matter how many times I give a speech of some sort, I always feel afraid that I'm going to mess it up. I don't know how my brother does it.'_

She had to talk to Logan, especially since the rumor about the executed worker turned out to be true. _'Logan, why? Why would you do this? This isn't like you!'_

Port and her walked through the main dining hall and towards the front entrance, and the old soldier let out a sigh upon seeing the large crowd waiting to be let inside the throne room. "A lot of people to see your brother today. Poor sods."

"Sir Port!" one man with a clipboard yelled. "What a stroke of luck! Would you be so kind as to sign my petition? Too many suffer on our streets, and the king does nothing. He must be made to care."

"Oh, very well," Port replied. "But, I'm just an old soldier. I doubt my name would actually mean anything."

He turned to Joan, an eyebrow raising. "But, perhaps the princess here would be glad to help you out."

The man's eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. "Oh, that would be wonderful, your majesty. It would simply be the greatest honor." He held out the clipboard and a quill to her, and Joan made up her mind. It wasn't right that so many people were left to fend for themselves on Albion's cruel streets, especially since her own father had to suffer that fate for six years of his life as a child.

"I'll be more than happy to sign." She bent over to scribble her name into the parchment, and the man let out a happy sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank you, your majesty," he said gratefully. "Your support will make a world of difference. I'm certain of it."

He took back the quill once she was done, and Port stroked his facial hair. "That was definitely a courageous move. I doubt it'll amount to much, but your brother will definitely realize you have a mind of your own even more now. How about we put that mind of yours to use in the combat room?"

"You're on." Joan's spirits rose. She enjoyed combat training, even if she suffered several small cuts and had bruises that took days to heal. It was perfect for clearing her head, and with everything she heard in the early morning so far, she could use it.

"You've made good progress these past few weeks," her mentor remarked. "But today isn't about practice. I want you to fight me properly, as if your life depended on it. One day, the people of Albion are going to need you to lead them. I have to find out just how ready you are. Now, go on and grab a sword."

Joan picked up a sword from the rack on the far side of the room, and she twirled it in her hands. Port drew his own blade, giving her a nod. "Fight!"

Joan rushed in, her boldness taking him by surprise, and she was able to get in a few quick strikes before he began to parry. "Oh, good strike!"

He chuckled, sending her spinning with a well-timed counter. "Do you remember the stories I'd tell you about your ancestor, Jaune Arc? You'd never get tired of them. And do you remember what you'd say every time?"

"Teach me to be a Hero," she recalled, a smile on her face. Her sword met Port's again, and she countered with a parry of her own. Port stumbled, and she landed another hit on her mentor.

"Every single time." Port smiled, letting out a grunt of pain. "But, I've done my best. Now, I need you to do your best. Strike me! With everything you've got!"

Joan tried to hit him, but he blocked the attack easily, shaking his head. "Not good enough! Don't see me as your mentor! See me as someone who is about to kill your loved ones!"

The blonde narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on her sword. She took in a deep breath and swung with all her strength. Port raised his sword to block the blow, and Joan shattered his sword in one hit.

The broken half fell to the ground, and Port let out a loud guffaw. "Ahaha! Would you look at that!? You only went and broke it! Am I a great teacher or what?"

His gaze turned serious, and he clasped her shoulder after she sheathed her blade. "But, listen. There's something—"

The doors to the combat room burst open, and in stumbled Yang. "Port! You have to come, quickly! Both of you!"

"The hell is going on?" he demanded.

"Outside the castle," Yang answered, doubling over and panting. "It looks like a demonstration of some kind. They're right outside the castle gates. I've never seen so many people out there."

"Dammit." Port let out a loud groan, rubbing his face. "I should've figured something like this would happen once word of what happened earlier reached the general populace. This isn't going to end well."

The three looked outside from within, and the old soldier frowned. "Logan usually does listen to my counsel. I'll go and find him. Joan, stay here. There's something we still need to talk about."

Joan nodded, and Yang looked outside uneasily. "I've got a very bad feeling about this, Joan. Logan will listen to you; you're his sister."

"But…" Joan didn't want to deal with her brother if he was in a foul mood; even though they were family, he still made sure to discipline her harshly if he caught her acting out of line, and she was pretty sure that disobeying an order to stay where she was would result in some sort of punishment.

"Come on!" Yang pulled on her arm, motioning with her head. "The guards have gone. We can sneak past them before they catch us."

Joan took one look at the crowd outside, and started to run towards the steps that lead up to the upper floor of the castle. The doors to the throne room were shut, and the blonde princess frowned. "They must be in the war room."

"Then let's get there before anyone sees us," Yang whispered.

Joan started to make her way to the war room, and she put her ear against the keyhole. Inside were three armed guards, Port, and her brother.

"Think about what you're doing, Logan," Port warned. "This won't be good for your image."

"I'm protecting the interests of the people," Logan replied evenly, a hint of a snarl in his voice. "Do not question me again."

He turned to the guards, his gaze firm. "You will shoot to kill. Start with the ringleaders, and if necessary, continue with the crowd."

Joan's eyes widened in horror. "N-no…he can't be serious!"

"This is madness!" Port protested, his path blocked by a rifle. "You can't do this!"

A guard smashed the old soldier's knee with the butt of his rifle, and he fell to the ground with a cry of pain. Logan stood over him, swallowing. "Never tell me what I can and can't do."

At this point, Joan interfered.

She pushed the door open, and Logan's eyes widened in shock when he saw his little sister. "What are you doing here? The war room is no place for a child; leave now."

The blonde princess's heart thundered in her chest, but she held her ground defiantly. "I'm here to stop you. Brother, please…you can't kill them."

Logan's eyes blazed with anger, and his jaw tightened. "So, you think you should be the one making these decisions? Very well. You'll have your chance. Take my sister and her friend to the throne room. We will settle this manner officially."

The guards swarmed Joan and Yang, and the princess met her brother's gaze before she was escorted out of the war room. "This is madness, and you know it."

Logan merely stroked his chin, brow furrowed. He was thinking of something, and for the first time in quite a few years, Joan was truly afraid of what he was about to do.

* * *

Logan took his seat on the throne, looking at his sister and her partner with his features set in a scowl. "You have disappointed me greatly, Joan. Punishment must be appointed where it is due."

He could tell she was afraid, but Joan kept her head high and her voice unwavering. "Punish me, then."

Logan shook his head, and the king of Albion stood up from his throne. "It seems you are no longer a child, so it is time I stopped treating you as one. It is time you learned the harsh reality of wearing the crown, Joan." _'She'll hate me for this. I know she will. But it will be necessary for her to grow into the woman Albion needs.'_

He gave a lazy gesture to three villagers currently held at gunpoint by three of his finest elite soldiers. "Here stand the ringleaders of the violent mob you saw outside. Who will be punished? Them, or your companion? The punishment is death."

"What!?" Yang gasped at his decree.

Joan stumbled, and she shook her head vehemently. "No, I won't do this!"

Logan leaned towards her, his eyes narrowed. "Decide. This is a lesson from me. If you are incapable of making the choice, then I will. They will all be executed."

Joan's blue eyes quivered, and they began to leak their tears as she looked towards Yang. "Y-yang…"

"Very well." A soldier went to impale the blonde noble, and Joan leapt to her defense, her sword parrying the strike and using the guard's momentum against him. Logan recognized the move as one their ancestor, Jaune Arc, used in battle. _'Port has taught her well. But this shows exactly what I was afraid of.'_

"So, you're not ready after all," Logan murmured. He gestured to the guards holding the villagers. "Take them to the courtyard and execute them."

Joan fell to her knees, her sword clattering to the ground, and the king gave the soldier holding Yang a nod. "Take her back to the war room. I'll deal with it personally."

"Sir, what about the princess?" the guard asked.

Logan looked at his sister sobbing, and he felt a pang of sympathy got her. Despite his orders, he had no intention of killing either party. It was meant to teach her a lesson, and this was more than enough to show that she still wasn't ready to be the woman Albion needed.

"Escort her to her chambers, please," he ordered quietly.

A soldier hefted her to her feet, and Joan stared back at him with horror and sorrow in her brilliant blue gaze. "How!? How could you do this!?"

Logan didn't answer her as she was escorted out to her chambers, and he stood up from his throne. She didn't know about the threat that lurked across the seas; no one did, but himself.

He left the throne room behind, and sighed. "May Avo forgive me."

The burden of the crown was too heavy for him to bear. He hoped this harsh lesson would set her on the path to become the legend Albion would need her to be.

 _ **A/N: So, how is this? Do you like it? Want more? Tell me what you think!**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	2. The Birth of a Hero

_**A/N: Well, the second chapter. I know that the first chapter may have given you the idea of it being purely a yuri Dragonslayer fic, but you should know that the real pairing is something that won't be revealed for awhile. And you're not getting any spoilers, but I can tell you it's something I've never seen done before.**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***The Birth of a Hero***

Joan didn't know how many hours had passed by while she cried, but it felt like she had had her head buried in her pillow for an eternity bawling her eyes out. She was able to her hear rain beginning to pour down from the skies, as if the heavens too were mourning. A loud crash of thunder shook the room, and it was briefly illuminated by a bright flash of lightning.

She hadn't cried like this is in years, not since her mother was killed by an assassin seeking revenge for her father's decision to have a prisoner executed.

All she could think about was how Yang was cruelly sentenced to death by her own brother in front of her very eyes, and how powerless she was to stop it. "Y-yang…why? Why did it have to be you?" Zwei let out a whimper and snuggled next to her to comfort her; he had yet to leave her side since she was escorted back.

The pain of losing her was so great, Joan wanted to curl up and die.

Klein, who had stayed by her side and watched with pity, knelt down and gave her shoulder a rub. "You mustn't blame yourself, madam. I don't think any of us realized just how extreme your brother has become."

His words didn't provide the comfort he intended for, and the blonde princess let out another anguished wail. Klein winced; it was painful for him, seeing the usually bright and cheerful princess this way.

Joan's crying stopped abruptly, and for a moment the old butler wondered if the shock had made her pass out. But the princess lifted her head, tears streaking down the side of her face. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she wiped them with a sniffle. "I have to do something…I can't just stay here."

The doors swung open, and Sir Port walked in, with his gleaming battleaxe on his back. "You're not. We leave the castle tonight. Albion is crying out for a new leader, now. It needs a Hero. It's time to see if you're ready."

"Ready for what?" Joan asked, looking at her mentor.

"To be the daughter your father wanted you to become," Port replied.

Joan stood up, giving him a nod. Her heart was devastated and would be for many long months to come. But for the sake of those she hadn't lost yet, she had to go on. _'Yang wouldn't want to see me like this. She would want me to keep moving forward.'_

Klein clapped his hands together, making his way over to the dresser. "Very well. I shall pack some essentials."

"There's no time." Port shook his head, sighing. "We take nothing but the clothes on our backs."

"But…"

"No, Klein. The longer we spend twiddling our thumbs, the less time we have to do the necessary," Port interrupted. "Come on."

Joan could tell that Klein didn't like it, but the old butler merely shook his head, mustache in annoyance and sighed. "Don't worry, madam. I shall follow you wherever the gods decide for your path to be."

He would always be by her side.

Zwei jumped up from the bed with a small whine, and the blonde princess knelt down to give him a few gentle scratches behind the ears. "You'll come with me, right?"

Zwei barked in response.

"Good. Now, let's move," Port commanded.

Joan followed him outside into the rain, and the old soldier shook his head with a growl. "I should've done something in the throne room. I could have stopped him."

"All you would've accomplished would have been your own death," Klein pointed out, hugging his cloak tightly against him.

"Still. Perhaps I should've taken you away sooner." Port let out a sigh, leading them towards the main garden. The thunderstorm seemed to be letting up, though the rain still soaked them completely; it would take forever for Joan to not feel like a fish.

They headed further into the garden, and Joan began to feel confused. "Where are we going? I thought we were leaving the castle, not going for a midnight stroll."

"We are," Port replied. "But, there's something we must do, first."

Meanwhile, Klein was looking around the castle gardens nervously, as if any moment the neatly trimmed bushes would part to reveal a rogue assassin or Logan himself. "There's something quite sinister about this garden at night…"

Joan's eyes widened when she realized where Port was taking her. In front of her was a large structure made of white marble, and a heavy iron door. "This…" _'These are the catacombs where Mother and Father are buried. Why is he taking me here?"_

She had of course attempted to sneak into them once before with Yang, but they were inevitably caught by Port. Joan had never seen him so furious.

"It's time we paid our respects to Albion's last Hero," Port said quietly.

"Never thought I'd enter this place again," Klein muttered.

"You should've known better," the old soldier said with a scoff.

Joan and Zwei followed them into the catacombs, and the blonde princess was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the cavern. To think that such a place existed in the castle was unimaginable, and her breath was momentarily taken away while Port and Klein walked on ahead. "Wow…" _'I thought I knew every bit of the castle, except for this.'_

She had no idea how far into the ground they descended, but she could hear every little thing, from the dripping of wax candles to the flutter of bat wings. High above, she could spot the roots of the plants in the garden protruding from the ceiling, twisted and mangled.

It was strangely beautiful.

"Amazing, isn't it?" she whispered to Zwei. The corgi barked, shaking out water droplets from his short fur. Joan tried to shield herself with her hands, eyes scrunched shut. "Zwei!"

He let out another happy bark and ran on ahead, leaving Joan no choice but to run after him again.

They quickly regrouped with Port and Klein, and the old soldier was standing between two golden coffins that contained the remains of Joan's mother and father. "The night your father died, I promised him I'd bring you here, with you were old enough and strong enough. This is your history. This is your legacy. The world has been too long without a Hero. But, I'm hoping it'll have one soon."

In front of the two sarcophagi was a large stature with its arms across its chest. Port pushed in a brick near the statue's base, and its arms fell down to reveal a shiny blue and gold object in its stony hands.

"What is that?" Joan asked, walking over to it apprehensively. She had never seen such an object like it, and it seemed to glow and pulse with power. _'Is it a magical artifact of some kind?'_

Her father intensely studied magic, and she herself read a few books that were in his study. But nowhere did she ever find mention of such a strange and wondrous object like the one that lay right before her.

"This is your father's most treasured possession. The Guild Seal, once used by your ancestor Jaune Arc of Oakvale," Port said. "It chooses those who have a great power inside them. Those who have potential to become legends. Now, it is your turn. Take it."

Joan nervously looked over at Klein, and the butler gave her a solemn nod.

The blonde reached for it, and she picked it up from the statue. It was far lighter than she expected, but nothing out of the ordinary seemed to really happen. "Is something supposed to happen?"

The Seal then began to shake in her hands, surprising her. It pulsed and throbbed, like a heartbeat, and it attempted to leap from her grip. "What the hell!?"

The next thing Joan saw was a brilliant flash of light.

* * *

When she came to, Joan found herself in a very, very unusual place. She was standing at the beginning of what appeared to be a long winding path bordered by grey waters, and in front of her were many, many gates. "What happened? Where am I?"

She looked around, starting to worry when she saw nobody else with her. "Hello!? Anyone!?"

"Don't not be afraid, my dear," a calm and soothing voice said behind her.

Joan whirled around, reaching for a sword that wasn't there, and was faced by a man with grey hair and small glasses on his face. Despite his rather youthful appearance, he had a mysterious sense about him. His eyes betrayed that he had lived for many, many long years, and he held a cane in his hands.

"Who are you?" she asked hesitantly.

"My name is Ozpin, the Seer of the Spire. I once guided your father in his greatest triumph," he replied. "But you…you have a destiny even greater ahead of you. Ahead lies the path you were born to take, and at its end is the kingdom you were meant to rule. Like all Heroes, you will face many trials, but you cannot pass through them alone. You'll need to gain the support of the people."

Joan's shoulders started to droop, and she sighed. "How? How am I to do this? I don't know the first thing about leading anything, let alone a rebellion." _'I'm just one person, and I don't know how to do any of that!'_

"Do not worry," Ozpin reassured. "You have the support of Sir Peter Port, who will be your strongest ally, and Klein, who will always serve you. You've already taken the first step of your journey. Now, walk through the gate and claim your reward."

The heavy gates creaked open, and Joan stepped through it. waiting for her on top of some strange emblem resembling the Seal was a chest, and Ozpin tapped it with his cane. "There is a great power inside you. You merely lack the means to unleash it, currently. This will fix that issue."

Joan opened it, and her eyebrow rose skeptically when she pulled from it a leather gauntlet. "Um…what is this supposed to do?"

"Put it on," Ozpin replied. "It'll channel the magic inside of you. Use by the tomb, and the way will open for you. Now go, and remember this for your journey, Joan. Even the most simple of choices can have far reaching consequences."

"Wait!" Joan tried to ask him another question, but the Seer faded away, leaving her alone once more. "Well, great."

She looked at the gauntlet, and shrugged. "I guess the least I can do is put it on and see if he's telling the truth." She fit it over her hand, and it began to crackle with electricity.

Another blinding flash greeted her, and she was suddenly back with Port and Klein. _'What the hell was all of that? Was it just a figment of my imagination? Or was I really in some other dimension?'_

Port looked at her eagerly, his mustache quivering. "Well? Do you feel any different? Try casting a spell."

Joan's hand became cloaked in the crackling blue energy, and for the first time in her life she cast a Shock spell. The magical electricity activated the seal in the tomb, and it flashed a bright yellow before the floor parted to reveal a hidden stairway.

Port was ecstatic, and he let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed in the tomb. "Haha! It bloody worked! You really are a Hero!"

He looked at her, understanding flooding his eyes. "Aha. It makes sense you would be gifted with that particular spell."

"Why?" Joan asked.

"Because, it was the first one Jaune Arc learned, and the first one your father learned," he replied. He clapped a hand on her shoulder, smiling. "He'd be proud of you. You should know that."

Joan felt more alive than ever before after she cast the spell. The way her blood seemed to pump through her veins with renewed vigor was intoxicating, as if it wanted her to continue using her newfound magical powers. "I feel…strange." _'What is this feeling? It's so addicting…'_

"Your blood is awakened," Port replied, peering down at the newly opened cavern. "Hmmm. It does seem somewhat narrow. Dark, too." Port had a serious dislike of dark caves, not because he couldn't see, but because of mice.

The most respected soldier in the Albion Army was afraid of bloody _mice_.

"What's the matter, Sir Peter?" Klein asked. His mustache quivered, and he smirked. "You never did care for mice, did you?"

"They bring only disease and famine!" he snapped defensively, stomping ahead of the butler and princess. "And for the record, I never did care for being poked in the eye or having my head chopped off, either!"

"Oh dear. I seem to have struck a nerve." Joan wasn't fooled by the apologetic tone; she could see that amused look in the butler's eyes as he said it.

"How about I strike a butler on the bonce?" Port growled in response. Joan clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud; her mentor was already in enough of a foul mood.

The narrow, dimly lit tunnel then opened up into a giant cavern, and Port let out a loud sigh. "Ah, now this is more like it! Grand, spacious, a plentiful supply of oxygen…just the way a castle's escape route should be!"

His voice echoed through the cavern, and Joan heard a second, unfamiliar voice insult them from somewhere. "Yeah? Well your wife was also grand and spacious after I was done with her!"

The voice was raspy, and sounded slightly intoxicated.

Joan froze in her tracks, and she looked around. "Um, did anyone else hear that?"

"Hear what?" Port asked. "I didn't hear anything."

"Me neither," chimed in Klein.

Joan frowned. _'Am I just hearing things? What the hell is going on?'_

Then the voice chimed in again. "Whoa, look at what we got here. Looks like a cute blonde finally showed up! And they can't hear me; only you can. Better get used to it."

Joan scowled in the voice's direction. She was really tempted to search out the hidden pervert and blast him with her magic, but a gentle tug on her hand from Zwei pulled her away.

She really hoped her journey wouldn't have this kind of rubbish constantly following her.

She ran to catch up with Port and Klein, the latter asking about their next move. "I hesitate to ask, but what exactly is our plan? Apart from leaving the castle far behind us, which I obviously wholly approve of."

"It's simple. We have to stop Logan," Port replied.

Joan sighed and looked at the hand which currently bore the Shock gauntlet. "And how am I supposed to do that? Even if I am a Hero, I'm just one person." _'Is this how Father felt, all those years ago?'_

The winding path led deeper into the caverns, and Port nodded. "Exactly. That's why we need to find allies. And lots of them. Once people realize who and what you are, they will follow you. But they need someone to believe in. The land needs nothing less than a revolution."

All of a sudden, a swarm of bats flew out from a small cave in the wall, and Klein let out a startled yelp of horror. "Bats!"

"Well, Joan, I think it is finally time you show us how you can handle these nasty bastards." Port chuckled and drew his pistol, firing at the swarm.

Joan's hand crackled with magic, and she started to cast Shock spells. Bolts of lightning were unusual for her to see in an enclosed space, but she wouldn't deny that it was rather pretty if she ignored the high pitched squeals of pain the bats let out while she disintegrated them with her power.

Port holstered his pistol, and he clapped a hand on her shoulder once the bats either fled up high or were dead. "Good work."

"Indeed." Klein nodded in agreement. "Your father would have been happy to see this."

"I'm proud of you too, old friend." Port grinned mischievously, taking the lead. "I've never seen a man cower with such grace before."

"It's merely a matter of hygiene!" the butler defended. "Bats are filthy and vile creatures!"

Port merely laughed, leading them through the cavern down a set of crumbling stairs. "Anyway, I think you've shown us the beginning of what you're capable. You are the Hero who can lead Albion. Bats are just the beginning."

At the base of the stairs was a large puddle of mysterious green liquid, and Joan gagged. The stench rising from it was enough to make one vomit, and she looked at the old soldier in exasperation. "Please tell me we can find a way past that mess that doesn't involve me walking through it and smelling like a sewer." _'The smell is bad enough, even from this distance. Ugh.'_

"Sorry, princess. You're going to have to get down and dirty," the mysterious voice from earlier yelled. "Just the way I like it."

The blonde gnashed her teeth in frustration. When she found the one responsible for the constant innuendos, she was going to smack him.

"I'm afraid not," Port replied apologetically. "Don't worry; I'm sure we'll be able to find a set of clothes suitable for you in the near future. You better get used to it."

Joan sighed. "Very well." _'And if not, well, I can always have someone clean them.'_

' _Oh wait. I don't have the luxury of living in the castle anymore. I'll have to do it.'_

So much for it being easy. She supposed it was for the best, though; she couldn't be a leader if she was constantly spoiled her whole life. Zwei barked and nuzzled his head against her leg encouragingly. _'I can do this.'_

They began to make their way down the ruined staircase when another swarm of bats flew out of a small cavern.

"More bats! Time to cast some magic!" Port seemed way too happy while he was shooting them. Joan made a note not to let him get near any sort of alcoholic beverage for the next three hours.

Still, the blonde princess assisted him with her magic, feeling more and more comfortable with each spell cast. The sudden burst of power that surged through her arm was slowly becoming less noticeable, and her blood calmed down once her arm was lowered. _'Huh. I guess the more you use magic, the more your body gets used to it. It becomes as familiar as your own heartbeat.'_

It still felt unusual to her, but she figured it would only be a matter of time before her usage of magic became nothing more than a routine.

A semi-cracked tunnel loomed ahead, and Joan wrinkled her nose in disgust at the stench coming from it. "Ugh, what the bloody hell is that?"

"You might want to cover your noses," Port suggested. His pistol was back in its holster, and he let out a cough. "It's the Bowerstone sewers."

Klein gagged, covering his face as they walked through the giant sewer system. The flickering candles above and the wave of stench rising from the foul ground below their feet gave the tunnel a sickly green color, and he snorted in disgust. "What an unusual stench. I daresay we must be somewhere beneath Bowerstone Industrial."

"Very likely." Port nodded. "It's not the safest place for us right now, but we should be able to find a way out of the city once we reach the surface."

Joan spotted a small chamber, and she blinked in confusion. "What is that?"

"It looks like a dead end," Klein murmured.

"Not quite." Port pointed to an emblem that looked exactly the same as Joan's Guild Seal on the floor, surrounded by many candles. "That's a cullis gate, if I'm correct. It's a sort of magical transportation system for Heroes."

"I was under the impression that they were all destroyed some thirty years ago." Klein frowned, and he knelt down to study it. "It's the same symbol as the seal in the tomb. Do you suppose…?"

Joan met Port's eyes, and he gave her a nod.

Joan cast a Shock spell, and the gate activated. _'For the love of Avo, this better not lead me back to that strange dimension with Ozpin.'_

* * *

Joan didn't know what to expect when she activated the cullis gate, but she definitely didn't expect to end up in some circular room covered with dust and cobwebs. Klein had fallen on his back from the shock, Zwei growled, and Port had his hand on the handle of his sword, ready to attack anything hostile.

But nothing happened, and Joan looked around. "What is this place?"

Port joined her, and his eyes fell on an old book that lay on the large map in the center of the room. "This must be your father's Sanctuary. He spoke of it often, but never once did I think it actually existed."

He picked up the book, brushing some dust off the cover with his large hand. "Klein, this book has a note with your name on it."

"That's not possible," Klein returned, getting back to his feet. He took the book from the old soldier and shook his head. "Well, granted, it could be possible. The old king must have thought we'd need this. 'The Book of Heroes'. How extraordinary…"

"Does it tell us how to get out?" Port asked, looking around uneasily. There was his dislike of confined spaces again.

However, Klein paid it no mind and began flipping through the old pages, being careful as not to rip any of them. "This is quite remarkable. Apparently the map itself functions as a cullis gate. Focus on where you want to go, and it should take you there."

"Marvelous," Port said, sighing in relief. "Right, we can use that. We'll have plenty of time to explore this place. But right now, we have quite the large task ahead of us."

"But I don't even know where to start." Joan shook her head, feeling daunted by the sheer size of the map in front of her. How many villages? How many people? It was overwhelming.

"Our first stop will be the mountains of Mistpeak." Port pointed to the mountain range in the far east corner of Albion. "There are people there who would make great allies. They won't offer their allegiance easily, but they despise Logan. And if anyone can persuade them, it's a Hero."

"I will remain here to become fully acquainted with the Sanctuary," Klein said. "No doubt we will need to make full use of it."

"Very well." Port nodded in approval. "Now, let's find out if the book is telling us the truth."

Joan stared at a small dot in the mountainous region, focusing hard on the camp there. _'Mistpeak, Mistpeak, Mistpeak…'_

Her concentration paid off, and she was greeted by a bright yellow light.

* * *

When the blinding light faded away, she found herself standing next to Port and Zwei on an old structure just outside a small camp. The first thing she noticed wasn't Zwei chasing his tail.

It was the damn cold.

The princess immediately began to shiver, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. "Bloody hell. You might've wanted to warn me that it would be ridiculously cold." _'By Avo, it's freezing! How could anyone live here!?'_

Port let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing his own arms in an attempt to warm himself. "Sorry about that. I forgot how bad the cold was up here. Haven't been through in a few years."

"How about you warm up using the flames of passion during an intense session of love making!?" the mystery pervert suggested. "It'll make you feel good too!"

Joan really had had enough of whoever it was.

The camp was small, consisting mainly of snow covered caravans and a few small stores. People wearing thick furs to block out the elements sat huddled around small campfires, and Joan was shocked.

She spent so much time cooped up in the castle and had no idea what life outside of it was really like. But here it was in front of her very eyes.

"The people here call themselves Dwellers," Port told her, keeping his strides short so Joan could get a good look at everything around here. "They're tough. They're loyal. And like I told you earlier, they hate Logan's guts."

As if to prove his point, Joan overheard one of the Dwellers cursing her brother. "If I get my hands on that bastard, I'll drown him in his own blood."

' _Logan, what have you done to the people here?'_ the blonde wondered. "What happened?"

Port could only sigh and shake his head. "Logan seized control of the mountains and began deforesting the region. Not to mention the steep levies he has; shortages are far more often than one would like."

Joan's stomach churned. It was a sickeningly pitiful sight to see, and she wondered if she would vomit on the snow beneath her. "This is horrible…how could he do this?" _'Brother, why? Why would you do something like this?'_

"I don't know," Port admitted, stopping in front of a heavy wooden barricade guarded by two Dwellers on opposite sides. "But this is where we begin. The man we need to convince is Sabine. He's a proud old bastard, but he's a good man and a good leader. He won't offer his allegiance easily, especially to a princess. I'll speak to him alone, first. And you should probably find some new clothes in the village. Something less…regal. We don't need this kind of attention."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bag of gold. "I only have a little bit of gold, but it should be enough, and perhaps you can spread what's left amongst the people. They need it far more than we do."

"Where can I find clothes?" Joan asked, pocketing the gold coins. She counted the amount, and Port was right; it was a small amount compared to gold she was accustomed to having on her. _'Only 500 gold. It'll have to do.'_

"Don't worry; you'll find someone more than happy to take that money off of you," Port said reassuringly. "If I'm correct, there's a clothing stall in the middle of the village. Now, wish me luck."

Joan nodded, and started to head back into the village with Zwei at her heels. She let out another shiver, clutching her arms, and Zwei rubbed against her legs in an attempt to warm them.

The blonde smiled and gave him a pet behind the ears. "Thanks, boy." Zwei barked happily and leapt up cheerfully.

Joan rolled her eyes, and like Port said, there was a clothing stall in the middle of the village. Standing outside of it was a sullen looking man with a long beard, and he rubbed his eyes upon her approach.

"What can I get you today?" he asked, sounding as depressed as he looked.

Joan pointed to the mannequin with a pile of clothes on it, shivering. "How much is it?"

"300 gold," the man replied.

"I'll take it." Joan fished out the necessary gold coins, but stopped. This man wasn't making ends meet and judging by his skinny frame, he must have been starving.

' _They need it far more than we do.'_ Port's words rang in her ears, and her heart couldn't allow herself to only give him the minimum.

She added an extra twenty gold to the pile, handing it over to him. "Here. Keep it."

The man's face lit up, and he took it with tears of gratitude starting to snake their way down his cheeks. "Thank you, kind one. May Avo light your path."

Joan was by no means religious, but the god of light, Avo, had always been prominent in her family. He guided Jaune Arc five hundred years ago to wipe out the Chapel of Skorm, the god of darkness.

And now, it seemed as though He was looking down over her.

Joan was handed the set of clothes, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when Klein's voice came out of her seal. "Hello, madam, this is…hello? Am I talking through the Guild Seal?"

"Bloody hell, Klein, you nearly gave me a heart attack," Joan muttered, trying to calm her racing heart. "What's going on?"

"Well, I happened to uncover a dressing room in the Sanctuary," he replied excitedly. "Return when you can, and I can show you what I mean."

Joan focused on being teleported to the Sanctuary, and soon she found herself standing in it again. She let out a sigh of relief, dusting the snow that had fallen on her shoulders onto the ground. _'At least it's nice and warm in here.'_

Zwei shook out his fur and curled up into a small bed on the floor for a brief nap, and Klein stepped out from a room to her left. "Ah, there you are. If you will kindly follow me."

Joan followed him into the room, and in front of her were four mannequins. A small changing area was to her right, and a large mirror was to the left. "Wow. A perfect place to get changed."

"Indeed. You should change into your new clothing," Klein suggested. "I doubt it'll be as comfortable as your royal attire, but at least it'll keep you warm."

Joan ducked behind the changing area, pulling the curtains shut, and she quickly stripped off her royal clothing to don the new Dweller outfit. It was a little itchy, but the fur boots, pants, and gloves were sure to keep her limbs from freezing in the harsh mountain climate.

"Have you managed to find some way to clean clothes at all in here?" she asked, sliding the dirty pile under the curtains.

"Yes, I have. Don't worry, madam; I'll have your clothing in perfect shape when you wish to change into it," Klein said. "Are you ready?"

"Just a minute." Joan fitted the brown fur sleeveless shirt over her head, and she pulled the curtains aside, doing a little twirl for him. "How does it look?"

"Radiant, my dear." He smiled. "Now, you go and meet this Sabine we've all heard so much about."

"Understood." Joan nodded.

Port was waiting for her.

* * *

When she arrived back in the Dweller Camp, she found that while the furs were a little itchy, they did a much better job of blocking out the cold than the fine silk she was previously wearing.

She broke into a jog, Zwei keeping pace with her, and she met Port standing outside the gates again. "How did it go?"

"I told Sabine what happened. Explained everything, but…well, I did say he'd take some convincing," he replied with a sigh. "Nice look, by the way. It suits you. Now come on."

The two guards let them through the gates, and Joan found herself staring a huge brute of a man, easily seven feet tall. His muscular arms were folded over his chest, and he glared down at her.

"Out of the way, Boulder. I can't see a bloody thing," an old voice ordered. The giant stepped aside to reveal an old man with a large mustache and pointed beard. He was dressed in the same manner as an old hermit would, and he had a pipe in his mouth.

' _This is Sabine,'_ the princess realized.

"So," Sabine began, eyes squinted. "Royalty walks into our land. The princess, no less. You're a far mile from the castle. Do you like our home, then? Do you like what your brother has done to us?"

He gestured to the snowy rock and trees around him, his voice laced with barely concealed venom and sadness. "These mountains have always been ours. But now, Logan's taken them and is stripping them of all life. We're ready to go to war, but why should we follow Logan's kin?"

"You can have my word—" Joan started, only to be cut off by the old man.

"We don't take much stock in words around these parts," Sabine scoffed. "We're simple folk."

"What do you want, then?" she asked.

Sabine beckoned for both Boulder and Joan to lean in closer to hear his words. "Proof. Prove you are, as Port claims, a Hero. This is easily done. There is a secret chamber beneath the Brightwall Academy, built by your own father. Only a Hero can survive the trials and find the artifacts within. Bring me one, and I will believe you. Secondly, prove that you are a warrior worthy of leading us into battle. You can do this by slaying the mercenaries who plague Mistpeak and who have long soured our existence. Third, prove you are a true leader. Convince our neighbors in Brightwall to share what supplies they have with us."

He looked over at his guard, who had taken to petting Zwei, and sighed. "Boulder…"

The giant groaned, but stood up nonetheless.

"If we cannot eat, we will die," Sabine said to Joan. "And the dead make very poor allies."

Three tasks. Joan had her work cut out for her. "Is that it?"

"Yep." Sabine lit his pipe, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "That's the lot. Nice meeting you, and good luck."

They were dismissed, and Port and Joan were escorted out of his circle and back to the camp.

"Well, he was pleasant," Joan muttered.

Port laughed, leading her past the Dwellers to the drawbridge at the camp's entrance. "Nice to see he hasn't mellowed with age. But, I do know about the place he mentioned. Your father had it built underneath Brightwall Academy, Albion's greatest seat of learning. Or rather, it was, until Logan closed it down. Just show the librarian your Guild Seal; she'll know what it means. In the meantime, I'll try to find out what I can about these mercenaries. I'll see you in Brightwall when I have some information, okay?"

"Understood." Joan nodded.

The bridge lowered for them, and Port let out a contented sigh. "It makes a nice change, doing something useful."

Joan stepped out of the Dweller Camp, and was greeted by a spectacular view. In front of her sprawled a tundra, with beautiful pine forests in the distance and several jagged peaks belonging to more mountains.

She rubbed her hands together, looking down at Zwei. "Are you ready?"

Zwei barked and licked her pant leg.

"Then let's get started."

Joan had heard the cries of the downtrodden. Her journey to lead a rebellion against her brother was now underway.

She just wished the rest of the journey would be a little bit warmer and without weird perverted old drunks only she could hear.

 _ **A/N: Goddamn, this fic is really fucking fun to write. Fable 3 has always been one of my favorite games, so to write a RWBY fic taking place in the beautiful land of Albion…fuck, it's practically a dream come true.**_

 _ **So, want to place bets on who's the unnamed pervert who's suddenly taking an interest in Joan? XD see you soon!**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	3. The Trial

_**A/N: Chapter three. This is probably going to be the longest RWBY fic I've done (especially with the chapter length XD. Hey, it's a fantasy…), and I'm loving it.**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***The Trial***

Before she began to make her way down the icy slopes, Joan breathed into her hands, rubbing them to warm them up. The wind had picked up, signaling the beginning approach of a snowstorm, and the blonde could feel a few flurries already settling on her shoulders.

If it weren't for the danger of slipping and falling to her death, she would've loved to stop and admire the beautiful view for a little longer. She shivered despite the warm furs covering her body and slowly started to walk down the mountain, her boots digging deep into the snow with each step. _'You can do this. Just watch your step.'_

Zwei plodded next to her, his fur fluffed out to protect him from the harsh climate. He didn't seem to mind the cold as much as she did, and the princess concentrated on making her way to the village of Brightwall.

She had descended a solid three hundred meters or so when she decided to take a break to catch her breath on a circular cliff edge with a stone arc. The altitude did make it a little hard to breathe, and she rested her hands on her knees, straining to see in the thick cloud cover that now blanketed the region like a giant quilt. _'I can't see a damn thing.'_

Joan let out a sigh. A scenic trip like this would be perfect, if she had some company with her apart from Zwei. Her corgi was always by her side faithfully, but she longed to see the face of another person with whom she could converse with while she made her way down. "I guess I'll have to go alone, huh Zwei?"

"Nah, you'll always have me here for company," the drunk voice from earlier said. "You looked better in the skirt. I liked being able to catch glimpses of the jewels underneath."

Joan growled angrily, her hand alive with a Shock spell. "Would you just shut up!? And where the hell are you!?" She looked around furiously, trying to find wherever this bastard was hiding.

"Look up, Blondie."

Joan looked up, and her eyes widened in shock. "No way. You've got to be joking." _'Are you seriously telling me that this entire time I was being hit on by this!?'_

Near the top of the arch, with a stupid smirk permanently etched on its face and a pointed hat on its head, was a lone garden gnome.

"Surprised?" it asked, tilting down to leer at her.

Joan regained her senses, and she threw a Shock spell at it. However, it bounced harmlessly off the gnome, and it sighed. "Damn, you're no fun at all. And you gotta try much harder than that to get rid of me."

Joan stomped away with an angry growl, trying not to give into the temptation to scream. Knowing her luck, it would cause a giant avalanche and accidentally kill some poor trader barely scraping by.

She stopped when she saw a pack of wolves twenty meters in front of her. There were only three of the creatures, but she knew that was more than enough to rip a person to shreds.

The leader of the pack, a black wolf with blood from a recent kill dripping from its fangs, howled in the sky and started to stalk towards her. Joan's hand crackled with magic; if it wanted a fight, it was going to get one. _'No point trying to outrun them. Have to fight my way through.'_

"Zwei, stay back," she ordered, charging up a Shock spell. The corgi barked, and Joan met the wolf with a spell directly to its face.

As a weaker spell, it didn't do too much damage to it, but it was enough to blast the predator back. It yelped in pain, and howled for its two companions to help it as it tumbled in the snow. The two white-grey wolves charged with furious snarls, and they too were blasted back by Joan's magic. Her power surged through her body with each cast, and she dove to her left to avoid a furious lunge. She nearly fell off the cliff face in the process, and she quickly scrambled away as to not plunge to her death. _'Too close. Way too close.'_

Her moment of peril continued, as a wolf managed to pin her to the ground with its jaws snapping at her neck. Joan was relatively successful in holding it back despite the creature being rather persistent in tearing her throat out, and Zwei knocked it off her with an angry bark.

"Thanks," she gasped out, hitting her attacker with another spell. The second was enough to kill it, and its corpse slid down the side of the mountain, falling into the valley below.

The leader of the pack howled in mourning, and Joan sent it tumbling to its death with a swift kick to the jaw. She heard bones break, and the sound made her stomach churn even as she killed the last wolf with a spell that fried its body.

Joan shuddered and continued on her way.

The snow began to fall more heavily, with a solid amount now on her shoulders and in her hair. She had worked up a sweat fighting the wolf pack off, and right now the cold felt good compared to the heat the thick furs of the Dweller clothes provided at all times.

She supposed it couldn't be helped. They were designed by a tribe of people who lived in the harshest of climates, and wearing anything less than suitable would be suicide.

The blonde was now halfway down the mountains, and she stopped at a perilous wooden bridge that spanned the valley. It creaked with each gentle sway, and Zwei nuzzled her leg with a whine.

Joan looked around, trying to find another way around. But there wasn't one, and she knelt to pick up her dog. "I guess this is the only way." _'You'd think someone would've built a better bridge with all the lumber lying around for the taking. But I guess no one wants to bother with the bloody cold.'_

She undid the first three buttons of her fur jacket to place Zwei in and once he was firmly secured in her embrace, she started to carefully make her way across the rickety old bridge. "Well, here it goes."

The first step produced a loud creak, and she gripped the freezing rope tightly with a sour expression on her face. _'I really hope this isn't a reoccurring theme for leading this rebellion.'_ Zwei squirmed against her chest, letting out a muffled bark of encouragement.

With a death grip on the rope she crossed the rickety old bridge without further complications, and the blonde let out a breath of relief she hadn't known she was holding in. "Thank Avo that's over."

She could see a village in the distance about two kilometers away, and she shielded her eyes as the wind began to pick up. "We're almost there. Finally. What I wouldn't do for a warm bath right about now."

She let Zwei out from her jacket and heard a whistle nearby once the jacket opened up. "Damn, you got quite a nice body for someone who doesn't appear to be all that active. I like what I see."

Joan groaned in annoyance. "Another one of you? Don't you have anything better to do than harass me?" _'If I have to put up with this much longer…'_

"I'm a damn hunk of stone. It's not like I have a book to publish or a crime scene to investigate," the gnome returned with a snort. "Besides, I finally woke up after a long nap thanks to your voice in that cave."

"How long of a nap?" Joan rolled her eyes.

"…I lost track of time pretty early on. I don't have a single clue, Blondie."

"Great. A magical talking stone man who only I can hear woke up from hibernation after hearing me." Joan let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed her head. "Just perfect." _'This is just what I needed. The sooner I get myself to sleep, the better.'_

She was honestly beginning to think she was hallucinating.

Joan walked along a dirt path that appeared to lead to the village, and she passed what appeared to be a monument of some kind. She stopped to take the time to take a closer look, and she ran a gloved hand over the smooth stone. It had to be a few decades old, and she wiped away a bit of snow to reveal an inscription had been etched into it.

 _This is a monument to those who willingly gave their lives to defend Albion from the horrors of Lord Lucien's ambitions. May we never forget those who stared death in the face and didn't return._

Several dozen names had been engraved beneath, in handwriting far too small for Joan to read, and the blonde princess took a moment to pay her respects to those who had fallen, over fifty years ago.

Her father, before he was crowned king, had stopped the madman Lord Lucien from using the Tattered Spire, a giant magical conduit built by the Last Archon during the time of the Old Kingdom. Lucien had planned to use the Spire to wipe out the entire world and usher in a new one to take its place. His reason for wanting the world gone was something that many would have; he lost his wife and child in a horrific bout of sickness that plagued the land for five years, and wanted to bring them back the only way he knew how to.

However, once he realized the amount of magical power he had at his very fingertips, Lucien's lust for power consumed him. He began enslaving people to build the Spire, recruiting guards to kidnap more workers when he deemed necessary. Those who tried to resist were slaughtered like helpless sheep, and when he was defeated, Joan's father used the Spire for the most noble of causes.

He brought those who had died inside the Spire's black walls back to life.

Those who died fighting, however, were not given their lives back, and as such he ordered monuments to be built wherever battles against Lucien's forces had been fought. Due to the presence of one here, Joan could only assume that one was fought in these very mountains.

Joan turned away from the monument and walked up along the winding path to Brightwall Village. The trees became more concentrated, and soon she found herself surrounded by beautiful oak trees that towered overhead. A small wooden sign with 'To Brightwall' pointed ahead, and the blonde increased her pace. _'Almost there.'_

Zwei sniffed at the ground, and he began to furiously dig near the base of a tree. Joan jogged over, curious as to what he had found. "What is it?"

Zwei lifted his head after he dug a sizeable hole, and he picked up a shiny red ruby with his teeth.

Joan took it from him, and she wiped it off. "Good job." _'I can sell this at a pawnbroker somewhere.'_ The small gem would fetch a good price, and put a decent amount of gold in her pocket. It wasn't enough to buy a house, but she wouldn't have to worry about not being able to pay for a room in the town's inn.

The trees began to thin again after another thirty minutes, and she finally got to look at Brightwall up close. "Wow…"

The village was surrounded by a temperate forest, with the mountains of Mistpeak towering above it. A prominent stone bridge was the only way in and out, and it spanned across a steep gorge with a river running a thousand meters below.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

Joan started to cross the stone bridge, and the town was surrounded by a powerful wall that suggested it was once a garrison town before it became the prime place for scholars to visit. The town gates were open, inviting her in, and she got to see the main square once she was inside the safety of the village.

At the top of the hill stood the Brightwall Academy, where she was meant to go. However, it was beginning to get late, and the blizzard was still approaching.

The square was surrounded by a few shops, including a blacksmith, two food stalls, a pawnbroker, and a tavern.

Joan needed to get some gold in her pocket as soon as possible, and she made her way over to the pawnbroker, fishing the ruby Zwei had found out of her pocket.

The pawnbroker was an old man with a monocle on his eye, and he looked up from the gem he was studying upon her entry. "What can I do for you, miss?"

Joan handed him the ruby. "How much can I sell this for?" _'Please be a decent amount…'_

The elderly man studied it with a careful eye, running his finger over it gently. "Hmmm…quite an exquisite find you have here. Most gems that float my way are often jets or amethysts. But this is uncommon around these parts. I say, I can give you three hundred and fifty gold coins for this."

"Deal." Joan nodded in approval.

"Thank you. I'll be able to make a good profit off of it." The pawnbroker smiled and handed her a bag of gold, and he waved to her on her way out. "Have a good evening, miss."

"You too." Joan pocketed the gold, and she let out a sigh of relief. It felt nice having a little bit of money in her pocket, even if it wasn't a lot. It would make sure she could survive for at least a few weeks without having to worry about living on the streets, and right now that was enough.

Joan strode over to the tavern, feeling the heat from the fireplace warming the building. Several villagers were inside drinking and laughing loudly while they discussed what they did that day and a pianist played a delicate tune in the corner to provide some music.

' _Cozy,'_ the blonde thought, rubbing her hands together. She approached the innkeeper, a robust man with a large grey moustache.

He looked up at her as she approached, and he finished wiping a glass with a clean cloth. "Hello there, and welcome to the Quill and Quandary. How can I serve you today?"

"Do you have any rooms available?" she asked, wiping a bit of snow from her shoulders. "It's been a bit of a long day."

"We do." He nodded and handed her a key. "The cost is ten gold per night. How many days do you plan on staying?"

Joan thought hard while she reached into her pocket. It would take a considerable amount of time to convince the people here to join her cause, possibly three weeks. A quick count told her she had enough, but it would be costly. _'Damn. But at least I have the money to afford it.'_

She'd be able to find other ways of making money soon. In a village like this, there were always some kinds of jobs available. If she was smart, she'd be able to afford a house very quickly.

"Two weeks," she answered, dropping one hundred and forty coins into his hand. "I have a bit of business to attend to here." She was careful not to reveal the true nature of her visit; in a gossipy village like Brightwall, word was sure to spread fast, and the last thing she needed was Logan storming through the mountains to drag her back to the castle and try her for treason.

"Very well," the innkeeper replied. "I'll have a meal sent up to your room shortly, for I imagine you must be famished. Don't worry about payment; the price of the meals is included with that of the room. Today's special is a beef pie."

"That sounds quite nice, thank you." Joan gave him a friendly smile and walked upstairs to her room.

It was smaller than she was used to, with one average sized bed, a desk, and a bookcase with a lone window to look out of. But, it was more than sufficient at the moment, and Joan wasn't about to complain when the alternatives were either pushing herself until she collapsed from exhaustion in the chamber beneath the academy or daring to brave the blizzard and sleep on the streets.

Besides, she liked the rather cozy atmosphere it gave off. Warmth from the fire downstairs wafted through the wooden floors, and Joan closed the door to prevent any intrusions on what would be the conclusion of one hell of a day. So much had happened in the last twenty four hours, and she didn't know how she'd managed to get as far as she did in the time it took. It felt like she was talking to Yang only a few hours ago, and now she was on the other side of the country.

' _Yang…'_ A lone tear snaked its way down her cheek and she wiped it away, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I miss you, Yang. More than anything." _'He'll answer for what he did.'_

She undressed, pulling the fur clothes off and folding them in a neat pile on the bed. She'd need the boots for tomorrow when she went out.

As soon as she finished undressing, the piles of clothes vanished. Joan blinked in surprise, and she looked around in confusion. "Um, what?" _'What the hell just happened? Where did they go?'_

"Apologies, madam, but I have taken them into the Sanctuary for cleaning," Klein said through the Guild Seal. "Do not worry about being caught in the nude. More comfortable clothes should be arriving just about now."

One flash of light later, and there were the clothes she was wearing earlier, freshly cleaned and without a trace that they had been through the Bowerstone sewers. Joan smiled and put them on, feeling much more comfortable in her royal attire than she did in the furs. "Thank you, Klein. I appreciate it."

"Just doing my duty," he quipped. "Now, I believe a homemade dinner from the pleasant, honest people of the kingdom is on its way to you."

And he was right.

Not even twenty seconds later, a serving girl opened the door hesitantly with a steaming hot meat pie on a tray. "Here you are, miss. Let me know if you need anything else."

The delicious scent wafted up Joan's nostrils, and the princess's stomach growled with longing. "It smells fantastic. Thank you."

The woman left and Joan picked up the knife and fork provided before digging in. The soft flakey crust gave way to reveal the tender slices of fresh beef, and the blonde took her first bite.

Her eyes widened at the amount of flavor that exploded on her tongue. The meat was simply divine in both taste and texture, and she savored every bit of it. _'This…this is delicious! Better than even the chefs in the castle kitchens!'_

The food in the castle was by no means either bland or terrible, but the meat was always cooked a little too thoroughly for Joan's preference. She liked her meat on the slightly rarer side much to her brother's annoyance, and the beef in the pie was.

She devoured the meat pie in little over ten minutes. With her stomach happy and full, she wiped her face down to catch any stray bits that she might have missed. She set the tray aside, climbing into bed with a tired yawn. _'And with that, time for bed.'_

Zwei jumped up onto the bed, making his way under the covers, and he curled up into a ball next to her to provide a little more warmth.

"Thanks, Zwei." Joan gave his head an affectionate scratch before she placed her head on the pillow and closing her eyes.

* * *

When Joan woke up the next morning, she was greeted with quite a spectacular sight. Outside, the entire village was covered with snow and it sparkled in the early morning sunlight.

She stretched her arms and swung her legs out of bed. The pair of fur boots she had acquired yesterday was waiting for her by the foot of the bed, and she slipped them on before heading on downstairs and outside.

Some villagers were carrying crates of supplies to the various stalls in the town square, and quite a few were out shopping. It was a nice change to see the earnest and hardworking folk of the kingdom partaking in their small town pleasures far away from the bustling city and the factory smoke.

The snow was already beginning to melt, and she noticed a young man trying to paint in the square. Splashes of color dotted his blue jacket, and he frowned while his hand moved delicately over the canvas. "Dammit, why am I having such a hard time lately?"

Joan turned away from him. It would be rude to try and interrupt him while he was in the middle of attempting to create a work of art.

"Hey, your painting sucks!" a gnome yelled from somewhere nearby. "Why don't you do us a favor and chuck it off the bridge!?"

Joan rolled her eyes and sighed. _'So much for it being a peaceful day. Looks like these stupid gnomes are really going to be following me around everywhere.'_

"He can't hear you," she muttered under her breath.

"And that's why it makes it more fun. No consequences to worry about," the gnome replied with a snicker. It continued on insulting the painter, who was unaware of the horrible words that were spewing from the gnome's filthy mouth. "The only thing cheaper than your paintings is your mother on a Saturday night!"

If Joan wasn't already annoyed by the gnome's antics from yesterday, she would have laughed.

She walked up over a small bridge with a small stream that ran below. A few fish were living in its icy waters, bubbles occasionally appearing on the flowing surface. She stepped aside to let a group of men with their arms laden with crates pass by, and the blonde proceeded up the hill past a well.

The princess was now in the residential area of the village, with another smaller square and many houses around it. The academy loomed ahead, and the smell of freshly baked apple and blueberry pies flooded her senses. _'Mmm…smells good.'_

She saw a clothing store, and reminded herself to remember its location. She'd definitely need to visit it in the future, if she didn't want to wear the same two outfits over and over again. _'Looks like they have a decent selection there, too.'_

In front of the academy was a small fountain, still running despite the chilly conditions, and Joan finally entered the greatest seat of knowledge in all of Albion.

The halls of the academy were filled with bookcases, and in front of a large wooden desk was a blonde woman in a white shirt and black skirt.

She didn't look up when she heard Joan enter, and she pushed her glasses up onto her face. "The library is closed by the order of the king. We don't sell drinks, and we don't sell chicken feed. Please leave before someone suspects you of attempting to gain any real knowledge."

Joan detected the thick sarcasm in the librarian's voice, and she let out a cough to get her attention. The blonde woman looked up, now curious. "Would you look at that…a real visitor?"

She gave an apologetic smile, sighing. "I'm afraid I was speaking the truth. King Logan has completely closed down the academy. I'm sadly little more than a custodian these days."

Joan pulled out her Guild Seal like Port instructed her to do, and the woman let out a surprised gasp. "By Avo! The Guild Seal! I haven't seen it since the old king last came in here. Then you are…?"

"The princess, yes," Joan answered.

"Oh my. Please, follow me." The librarian motioned for her to follow, and Joan fell in behind her.

"Your father told me that one day a challenger bearing the seal would seek entrance to the Reliquary, but I never imagined it would happen during my lifetime," the librarian murmured. "Forgive my lack of manners. I'm Glynda Goodwitch, the librarian of the Brightwall Academy."

"Joan."

"Well, Joan, I'm sure you know by now that your father is the one who founded this place. I often wondered how he'd react if he saw it in its present condition."

Joan briefly wondered too. "I imagine…he'd be upset." _'He loved reading, almost as much as he loved the family. He'd be devastated if he saw what Logan's done to it.'_

She followed Glynda to a large metal door with an unusual lock mechanism on it to keep intruders out. In the center was a keyhole the same size as her seal, and Glynda stopped in front of it and stood next to several suits of armor. "Here we are. I can't tell you how many of our researchers have studied this door, hoping to unlock its mechanism. They wouldn't believe me when I told them there was only one thing that would ever open it."

Joan placed the seal in the lock, and it flashed yellow before the door clicked and it swung open, inviting her in.

"I don't know what perils lie within, but there's a reason only Heroes can access it," Glynda warned. "Be careful, and good luck."

Joan nodded and walked down the crumbling steps, the flickering of candles being the only source of light. All around her, she could see old bookcases, having long since crumbled under the weight of unread tomes. Some books lay on the stony floor, their pages tattered and incomprehensible.

One book managed to catch her eye, called, 'How to Be a Master Swordsman'. Curious as to what advice it could have in its pages, Joan picked it up and opened it. She let out a sigh of frustration, for the only advice it gave was, 'When you find yourself in a swordfight, just make sure you gut the other fellow first. Easy, what'.

"Real helpful," she grumbled, tossing it back onto a pile and continuing on her way.

Joan stopped when the hallway opened up into a giant chamber, and she made a right turn to descend down to a platform some fifteen meters below her. When she reached the platform, she couldn't find a way across the giant chasm, and a small blue orb floated in front of her. "What the hell is that?"

"That, madam, I believe is called a flit switch. They require a hit from a melee weapon to activate," Klein answered through the seal. "If you'll be so kind as to return to the Sanctuary, I can help you out here."

* * *

In the Sanctuary, Klein was waiting for her next to the entrance of a new room. "I happened to uncover an armory that contains some weapons. Step through, and I'll show you."

Joan followed him into the armory, and Klein pointed to two mannequins holding up a hammer and longsword, respectively. "These weapons were left to you by your father. They're living weapons, according to the book."

"What does that mean?" the blonde asked, studying them closely.

"It means they grow as you use them, and develop fantastic new properties," the butler replied. "The hammer, for example, will grow heavier. The sword, sharper. Which one will you choose?"

Joan tried to pick up the warhammer, only to topple over. "This…is way too heavy!"

Klein chuckled while he helped sit the heavy weapon back on the rack, his mustache ruffling. "Then perhaps it would do you better to use the sword, instead?"

Joan nodded, rubbing her sore arms. "I probably should've thought of that first, huh?"

She picked up the sword. Compared to the weight of the hammer, it was much easier to manage. Not to mention it felt right in her hands, whereas the hammer felt slow and clunky.

"Splendid choice," Klein said approvingly. "That sword is certain to cut a swath through your foes, and depending on who and how you fight, it will grow ever more powerful. Now that you have a proper weapon, you should be on your way."

Joan clipped the sheath to her belt, and tried to think of a name for her new weapon. _'What should I call it? It is my sword, after all.'_

' _Crocea Mors has a nice ring to it.'_

* * *

Back in the chamber, Joan drew her sword and struck the switch. It activated with a soft chiming noise, and a large bridge slid out of the platform to connect it with the one across from her.

She proceeded carefully, making sure to watch her step, and once she was on the other side, she noticed several wisps flying above her. "What are those?"

As if to answer her question, the wisps flew into the ground and reanimated a corpse that crawled up from the floor. Its eyes glowed, and it let out a deathly groan before its rotting body began to creep towards her.

' _What the bloody hell!?'_ Joan had never seen such a thing as the undead creature that now stood before her. It swung a rusty cleaver at her, and Joan rolled out of the way, striking it with her sword. It stumbled, and before it could face her the blonde destroyed it with a Shock spell.

It fell in a heap of bones and dirty rags, but she wasn't out of trouble just yet. Four more wisps dove to resurrect more bodies, and Joan grew concerned. "Klein, what in the name of Avo are these things!?" _'I don't understand! How can these things even walk!? They're just a sack of bones!'_

"They're called hollow men," Klein replied. "A single strong strike to the torso should be enough to defeat them. Be careful, though; they may be weak, but they can still inflict nasty wounds if you don't respect them as an enemy,"

"Understood." With her sword in her dominant hand, she charged up a spell in her left, casting lightning bolts at the walking corpses. They groaned with each hit, and one stopped dead in its tracks before being turned to dust from the spell. _'One down, three to go!'_

At least she didn't have any gnomes down here insulting her enemies. She winced when an attempted block resulted in her falling on her backside. _'Thank Avo I'm alone down here.'_

"Hey! Leave that cute girl alone!" one yelled. "If anyone's going to be putting her on her back, it's going to be me!"

' _Never mind,'_ she thought dryly, getting to her feet before cutting the hollow man in half. "Seriously? You're down here too? I'm really not going to be able to get rid of you, am I?" _'Two more.'_

"Hey, you know you like having me for company." The gnome chuckled. "I provide the humor your life desperately needs."

"I object to that," the blonde returned through gritted teeth. "I don't exactly like having gnomes only I can hear constantly tormenting my enemies." Her sword sank in the middle of a hollow man's chest, and she cut the undead abomination in half. "Especially ones that like to flirt."

"Bah, you'll warm up to me pretty soon," the gnome replied dismissively. "In the meantime, kill that last ugly sack of bones, will you? It offends my very eyes."

If it weren't for the fact that the hollow man would inevitably attempt to kill her if she left it alone, Joan would've been tempted to leave it just to upset the little stone pervert. "Oh, please do shut up…"

With the last hollow man dead, Joan sheathed her sword and continued on her way through the underground chamber, pushing past another doorway. In front of her, a staircase rose from the chasm, and Joan noticed a new kind of switch was in front of her. Unlike the previous one, this one was red, with a strange lightning bolt symbol on it. _'Is this one activated by a spell? Only one way to find out, I suppose.'_

Joan charged a spell and cast it, and the switch activated. Several platforms formed a bridge across, and she slowly started to walk across when she noticed the silvery blue wisps flying above. "Oh no…" _'More of them? This is going to be one long day.'_

She charged up her magic and began casting. Bolts of lightning disintegrated the corpses, and the hollow men were put back in the grave where they belonged.

One dropped a pair of green gloves, and she picked them up. They were military-issue gloves, perfect for gripping a sword or a swagger stick. _'I'll put these to use.'_

Joan fitted the gloves onto her hands and continued across the abyss, descending down a flight of stairs before coming to a stop. There was a problem preventing her from proceeding. A five meter problem.

The only way forward…was to jump down.

"Sorry, but you gotta jump, Beautiful," the gnome said. "Hey, now you're going to be distracting me with the length of that cute skirt."

"Ugh. You are utterly disgusting." Joan gagged before she leapt down. She landed on her feet without injury though, and she looked at her hands in surprise. "What? How did I…?

"It's because you're a Hero, Blondie," the gnome answered with a bored yawn. "Your body is much stronger than those of normal humans, and you can do feats that would shatter the bones of a regular person. Damn, did no one teach you anything?"

"I didn't exactly get a chance to learn," Joan snapped in response. She stalked along the long platform, briefly looking at the many iron cages dangling from the ceiling, and she peered down to look at the water below. "That is a long way down…" _'Too far for my liking. But, the water is deep enough to break my fall.'_

She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. "Okay…I can do this." _'Here goes nothing.'_ She ran and dove off, falling over a hundred feet into the water below. She hit the water below, and she swam up to the surface, now completely soaked.

The water did feel nice in comparison to the hot sweat she worked up in her many scrums with hollow men so far. She treaded water for thirty seconds to cool down before she swam across the pool, climbing out. Barring her was large circular door, and it first glance it looked like nothing would make it open.

Then Joan noticed the magic seal on the floor. _'It's activated by magic. Perfect.'_ She tried casting a regular spell at it, but it refused to budge. "Huh?"

' _Probably has to be one that has been charged up.'_ This time, she focused her magic and cast, and this time the door lit up and opened. "Finally."

She stepped through the door, heading through the passageway and finding a skeleton on the ground. Whoever it was had scrawled a note before they died, but the words were too small for her to read. The paper was already beginning to deteriorate, and she passed it by.

She walked by several braziers, and a swarm of bats flew over her head. The chamber opened into a massive cavern, and she continued along the narrow winding path that clung to the walls. However, before she could get further, she found herself surrounded by a dozen wisps. "Dammit!"

Joan drew her sword when the hollow men appeared, and started to swing. The blade cut through the brittle bones, and though they weren't difficult to defeat, there were so damned many.

She rolled to the side, throwing a Shock spell at one. It stumbled, and the blonde followed up with two quick strikes with her sword. She was feeling confident, thanks to Port's training, and she felt good.

Too good.

She didn't look behind her, and one hollow man hit her three times in the back. The blonde fell over, and she looked to see her assailant waiting to cut her throat with a rusty axe in its skeletal hand. Joan moved her sword to block it, and she blasted its head off with a Shock spell to the face.

The princess scrambled to her feet, a wet trickle of blood dripping from a cut on her back. Thankfully the wound wasn't very deep and it would serve as a reminder as to not ever get careless in battle, lest she succumb to even the weakest of enemies.

Joan cut a hollow man to bits with a flurry of attacks, her sword slashing through the brittle bones. The hollow man was reduced to a pile of bones and dirty old rags, and Joan looked around as the rest of the hollow men closed in on her. _'Oh great. They've got me surrounded.'_

' _But, I still have my magic.'_

Both hands became alive with the Shock spell, and she cast a surround spell. The wave of magic obliterated the hollow men around her with powerful blasts of lightning, and the ground sizzled and sparked with the residue.

However, it took its toll on her, and she fell to one knee in exhaustion. She panted heavily, trying to regain her breath. _'That took a lot out of me. I should only use that as a last resort until I become better with my magic.'_

Joan got to her feet and continued through the chamber, heading up to the left and stopping when the path ended. In front of her was a single yellow flit switch with a target on it. "Um, Klein? I don't think a spell or sword swing is going to work on this one."

"You're right, madam," Klein replied through the seal. "As it turns out, I neglected to tell you some more information about how these switches work in my haste to get you back into the Reliquary, and for that I do apologize."

"Don't worry about it." Joan shrugged. "We had more issues to deal with at the time. So, what can you tell me about them?"

"Well, red switches are activated by magic. Blue ones, melee weapons. Yellow ones, however, require a hit from some sort of projectile weapon. A crossbow or gun, for example. And I happened to uncover some in the armory just a few moments ago."

"I'll be right there, Klein. And promise me you'll have a drink waiting for me; I'm practically begging for one."

"As you wish, madam."

* * *

When she arrived back in the Sanctuary, Klein was waiting for her. A silver tray with a single cup of freshly made tea was waiting for her, and he handed it to her with a smile. "Here you are, madam. I imagine it must be quite cold down there."

"You don't know the half of it," Joan replied with a sigh, graciously taking the cup and having a sip. As per the usual, it was made to perfection, with a splash of milk and three small spoons of sugar.

After spending who knows how long fighting her way through the chamber just to find some artifact, she definitely needed it to pick her up, and she downed the rest of its contents.

"Ah, that hit the spot," she murmured happily. She wiped a small trickle away with her finger, licking her lips. "I'll go pick something from the armory."

"As you wish." Klein nodded, taking the empty cup away.

Joan walked into the armory and saw on her right a small selection of the weapons Klein just found. One was a small crossbow, replete with an enchanted pouch of crossbow bolts. According to the small inscription below the weapon, it would never run out of ammo; instead, it would replenish itself magically. Her magic reserves would be used to create bolts for the weapon, ensuring she would never run out of ammo for as long as her magic was active.

A look at the pistol and rifle next to it told they worked the exact same way, with the bullets for them being made via her magic.

Joan looked at the pistol. It would be perfect for her current objective, since she was in an enclosed space at the moment. The rifle would be too unwieldy, and while the crossbow packed a punch, it was also tricky to reload, which would prove impractical for the time being. Not to mention it had to be reloaded after every shot, and against enemies that were mobile, it could be more than just a hassle.

' _I should stick with the pistol for now,'_ she thought, picking it up and strapping the holster for it to her belt. _'Not only is it much lighter, but it is also has a bigger magazine.'_

With a firearm now in her arsenal, it was time for her to go back.

* * *

Once back in the Reliquary, she aimed her pistol and fired at the switch. The bullet was seemingly absorbed into it, and a bridge slid out from the platform to connect it with the large tower in front of her.

"Perfect." Joan slid the weapon back into the holster, and she drew her sword as the wisps floating above spawned a new kind of enemy, an armored hollow man. The creature was easily three feet taller than a normal one and covered from head to toe in thick steel armor, save for its face and bony hands. It clutched two heavy hammers in its hands and it roared a challenge before charging her.

"Bloody hell." Joan ducked under the hammers and hit it with two quick strikes. The armored beast stumbled, and it flung its hammer back. Joan blocked the attack and slid back.

"Okay, that does it." Her grip on her sword tightened, her magic flooding her body, and she unleashed an unblockable flourish attack. The hollow man fell with a clatter and before it could get up, Joan sank the sharp blade through its skull.

She withdrew it and shook off the sticky green liquid from the blade, sheathing it. "That's what I call a fatality." _'By Avo, that stuff reeks. Even more than the Bowerstone sewers.'_

Then the memory of treading through them resurfaced along with the horrible smell of human waste, and she gagged before walking up the bridge to the next landing above her. _'Never mind, I take it back. The sewers were much worse.'_

Three hollow men sprung up from the ground and Joan immediately drew her pistol and fired. Her bullets tore through the first hollow man like paper, destroying it instantly. She paused, focusing her magic to create more ammunition for her weapon, and slid another three bullets into it.

She aimed at the second one and fired. The undead creature jerked with each bullet until it fell, and she rolled under the strikes of the third. She kicked it off the platform, and it roared as it tumbled to its death in the abyss below. Joan smirked in satisfaction and dropped her pistol into her holster.

"Not bad, Blondie!" a gnome yelled approvingly. "That skirt length is gonna drive me nuts if I don't see underneath it soon, though."

The Hero groaned in annoyance, unable to find this one. "Why are you even down here!? Shouldn't you be haunting the village taunting a guard or something?"

"Eh, that's nowhere near as fun. Guards don't react quite like you do." The gnome chuckled.

Joan hissed in irritation, and were it not for the fact that she had to retrieve an artifact for Sabine, she'd have taken the extra time to hunt down every last gnome and shoot them.

' _Control yourself,'_ she scolded herself mentally. _'You are the princess of Albion; you can handle having a few annoying gnomes easily. This is nothing compared to the court meetings in the castle.'_

Actually, if she was honest, she would have chosen her dealing with her fear of the nobles over irritating drunk perverted talking stone men any day of the week. Especially with their stupid pointy hats.

The second tower was devoid of any wisps, and Joan breathed in relief. Her hand fell from her sword's handle, and she continued up until she was in the final room.

Resting on a pedestal in the middle of it was a small music box playing a gentle tune. "Is that…the artifact?"

Joan reached over to touch it, and it shook violently in her hands. A silvery portal appeared in front of her, and she heard Ozpin's voice again.

"Well done. Now, step into the light. There is much you need to know."

* * *

In the dimension where Ozpin resided, the seer was waiting for her. He had a smile of approval on his face as he rested his cane in his hands. "You have done well. Touching the Guild Seal was an indication of what you can become. Reaching the music box proves what you already are. You have begun to unlock your potential, and there is still greater power within you. You are the Hero who can lead Albion in a revolution. Leading the people against your brother will not be an easy task, but it is one you must accomplish."

"He'll answer for what he's done." Joan's fist clenched in anger, swallowing a lump. "I can promise you that."

Ozpin shook his head. "You misunderstand. This is not a matter of personal vengeance. As long as your brother sits on the throne, the country is in danger. Now, open the music box. It will show you the truth."

As if stirred by his words, the music box flicked open and showed the blonde princess a vision of her brother, showing her the ugly truth.

Logan was circling around a map of Albion, his eyes cold. "This is my Albion. Its mountains will bend to my will, or they will fall. Its cities will bow to my law, or they will burn. This is my Albion. Its people will do as I say…or they will die."

He stopped circling it, his grip on his cutlass firm. "I've seen what must be done, and nothing will stand in my way. We will be greater, and we will be stronger, no matter what sacrifices we must make!"

He whirled around, gripping the table tightly as the vision slowly faded away. "This is my Albion…and I will see it destroyed before I surrender it."

Joan blinked. She had no idea that her brother had fallen into the pits of insanity so long ago, and she was horrified by the truth. "Logan…" _'Brother, why? Why are you doing this?'_

"If any part of you doubted the necessity of a revolution, you now have you answer," Ozpin said. "Albion will perish under your brother's rule. Now, go and do what you can to earn your first major supporter. Sabine is a good man, and his people are strong."

Joan felt a sudden surge of power course through her body and she tumbled over, gasping as pain racked her body. _'What!? What's happening to me!?'_

The pain ebbed away, and when she got to her feet she noticed her weapons had changed. Her sword had grown a little heavier and sharper, and her pistol had gone through some modifications as well. Her hands crackled with magic, and the blonde looked at the lightning dancing on her fingertips. "Incredible…" _'I feel…stronger. Like I can use my magic even better now.'_

* * *

Joan expected to perhaps end up somewhere in the middle of Brightwall Village when she exited the portal. Instead, she appeared directly in front of Glynda Goodwitch.

The blonde librarian was startled to see her, and her glasses fell off her face when she jumped. "By Avo…you made it! This is great news! Albion has a Hero again!"

Once she regained her composure, she gave the blonde princess a graceful bow. "If I can do anything to serve you, please, don't hesitate to ask."

Joan nodded, putting the music box in her pocket. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

She turned on her heel and left the academy, with Klein also giving her praise. "I knew you would succeed, madam. I believe that Port had made some progress regarding the mercenary problem, and is waiting for you in the town inn. Report to him when you can."

"Understood. And thank you, Klein."

The trial to prove she was a Hero was now complete.

 _ **A/N: Annnnnnd that's it! I really didn't expect this chapter to get this fucking long, but this is something you can count on for this story. Chapters will be long as fuck. Do you like the trolly gnomes? I always thought they were the best part of Fable 3 XD. Keep guessing the pairing!**_

 _ **Discord: C. Strife #5371**_


	4. Birds of a Feather

_**A/N: Chapter 4! I plan on bringing in a few more familiar faces from RWBY, as well as having a ton of more shit in regards to normal playthroughs of Fable. Usually, I'm the kind of player who will literally complete every fucking quest. But, seeing as this is a 'good' playthrough, a few had to get reworked in a way.**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***Birds of a Feather***

Outside of Brightwall Village, Joan heard hushed and panicked whispers from the villagers. _'What the hell is going on? Did something happen?'_

"Did you hear?" a crate carrier whispered to the baker. "Thomas Kaidkin was just killed! In broad daylight!"

"You mean the painter? But who'd want him dead?" The woman let out a gasp and stopped making her pie, clasping her hand over her mouth. "He may not be the best artist, but he wasn't a bad person!"

"I don't know," the carrier admitted. "But for someone to assassinate him in broad daylight with the guards present…it's terrifying. Makes me wonder if we're next."

Joan bristled with alarm and reached for her sword. _'So, there's a killer running around. That's bad.'_

"So, some bastard is going around killing struggling painters, huh?" A gnome let out a bored yawn. "Who cares? Until someone important is killed, I'd say you should ignore it."

"But people are dying!" Joan replied with a hiss. "I can't just ignore this!"

"Your task is to lead a revolution, not go around hunting phantom killers," the gnome pointed out dryly. "Better for you to leave it to the guards, if you ask me. They'll find him."

"This may be a surprise to you, but I don't exactly like listening to your advice," the blonde snapped back, marching down the winding path down into the main square. There, in a puddle of his own blood, was the painter Joan had seen earlier.

Several guards were standing around his body, murmuring to each other as they investigated the scene. "The puncture wound in the victim's chest suggests the killer used a katana. Average size. Samarkand design, by the looks of it."

The guard stood up, shaking his head. "Dammit, what a waste."

The guards dragged his body out of sight, and Joan spotted something lying in the snow. _'What is that?'_

It was a wilted rose.

Joan knelt down to pick it up, running a finger over the petals. The flower was soaked with blood, and she sighed. All her life, she sat around the castle. And yet here in front of her was proof that the country's problems ran far and wide.

Joan let the flower drop from her hand, and she proceeded into the inn where Port was waiting for her.

The old man was seated at the bar with a mug of mead in his hand, and he let out a loud belly laugh when he saw her approach him. "Aha! So, you were successful! Bloody marvelous!"

He downed his drink in one large gulp, wiping a bit from his mustache. "You'll be happy to know I found some good information on those mercenaries Sabine mentioned. They're led by a woman named Raven. Do you know that name? I imagine Logan must have mentioned her to you?"

"No." Joan shook her head. "Who is she?"

"Raven used to be a captain in the Albion army some years back, but she found the life of a soldier to be dull compared to that of a mercenary," Port answered. "Strong woman. One of the fiercest fighters I've ever seen. But she deserted and made her way here. Her men are holed up in a small fortress in the mountains, so it won't be easy for you to get in. But, I happen to have an idea."

"Please don't tell me you're going to use me as bait." Joan let out a sigh. "I'd rather not get turned into a meat pie."

"Not at all." Port chortled. "No, this idea will require you to be a sheep in wolf's clothing, so to speak. You'll infiltrate their fortress with a disguise I've prepared for you."

"A disguise?" Joan's curiosity was piqued, and she followed him upstairs. "How did you even procure one?"

She stopped when she saw a naked mercenary passed out drunk on the table. His bare buttocks were stuck up in the air, and Joan covered her eyes with a furious blush. "Never mind…forget I said anything…" _'Bloody hell. I know that alcohol makes people do stupid things, but this might be the worst I've seen.'_

Port seemed unfazed by the mercenary's nudity and he handed her the clothes he had taken from him. "He's one of the mercenaries. A coldblooded killer. His name's Clarence, but he's known as Jimmy around these parts. He'd been drinking in the pub all day and was making life unpleasant for everyone. It didn't take long for me to get him completely pickled. Raven would be ashamed of this damn lightweight."

"Did you have to leave him completely naked for me to see?" Joan asked desperately. "I saw parts of him I would have preferred not to." It would definitely take awhile before the image of his limp manhood was erased from her mind.

"You might want to cover your delicates!" a gnome yelled from nearby. "It's gonna be a little cold tonight! Not that you're getting any, but still."

Joan rolled her eyes. _'Looks like he's everywhere I go now. Great.'_

"Sorry about that, but it sadly was a necessity," Port apologized, unaware of the irritating gnome that was persistent in following the princess. "Anyway, take his clothes, and you'll have a free pass into their camp. Just try and not think what those stains might be."

"Rather distasteful if you ask me," Klein muttered through the seal. "Still, Port is right. Come back to the Sanctuary to change into it when you wish."

Joan took them, wrinkling her nose at the smell of beer and sex. "Ugh. It reeks." _'These are filthy. Why would anyone want to wear this without washing them?'_

"Nothing I can do about that, I'm afraid." Port chuckled. "In the meantime, I'll find out who to talk to about getting food to the Dwellers. They may have not much to spare here, but they're kind people. They just need a little convincing. Good luck in dealing with Raven and her mercenaries. It'll be your first taste of a proper battle, but I know you'll do just fine."

Joan left the tavern behind, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest. Battling hollow men in the Reliquary was difficult at first, but as she progressed she found it getting easier for her. They were slow, clumsy, and predictable.

Fighting against mercenaries on the other hand would be much, much different. They were trained warriors and under the command of a powerful leader. It wouldn't be easy.

But Joan wasn't normal. She was a Hero.

' _I might as well change into it,'_ she thought. _'I really was hoping I wouldn't have to wear anything repulsive on this journey. I should've known better, considering some of the places I've already had to visit.'_

She could imagine Klein's face when he saw her in the distasteful outfit.

* * *

In the Sanctuary, her old butler was looking at the newly acquired outfit with a frown of disapproval. Currently, it was adorning a mannequin after he took it back for cleaning, and he shook his head with a disgruntled sigh. "Unbelievable. I have to say, it really is quite the accomplishment for a member of the royal family to acquire such repugnant articles of clothing. If I had a gold coin for every bloodstain I washed out of that, I'd have enough to make my own kingdom."

"Please tell me that's an exaggeration," Joan begged. "I'd honestly rather fight in my underwear if it isn't."

"Oh, it is, madam," Klein said with a cough. "But still, these are filthy. Even filthier than those awful bats and the gleaming white teeth…" He shuddered and the blonde bit her lip to suppress a laugh. Even though it bothered him greatly, it was still funny to see how much he hated the rats with wings.

"You mean, _were_ ," she corrected with a smile. "You can't be around dirty things without having an overwhelming urge to tidy them up."

"I'm a butler; I keep things clean," Klein defended. "Anyways, you should hurry up and put it on before it develops a mind of its own and walks off."

Joan rolled her eyes but she took it off the mannequin nonetheless and went to the changing area. She quickly put it on, wrinkling her nose. Even those Klein had no doubt done his very best cleaning it, there was still a lingering scent of sex on it.

Still, it was better than fighting naked.

When she was done, Klein gave her a nod of approval. "Very mercenary indeed. You'll fit in quite well with those brutes. Now then, you best be off to deal with Raven. Be cautious; she's more than just a pretty face. One of the finest swordswomen I've ever seen."

"Don't worry; I'll be fine," Joan reassured.

Or at least, she hoped she'd come out alive.

* * *

Now that she had left the Sanctuary, Joan proceeded on her way out of Brightwall Village across the stone bridge leading into the mountains. The air was much chillier than it was in town, and she shivered; she wasn't used to the cold yet and probably wouldn't be for some time to come.

But, there was no point complaining about it. Not when people's lives were resting on her shoulders. The weight of responsibility was finally starting to sink in after her earlier conversation with Ozpin, and her shoulders began to feel a little heavier.

' _So, this is what it must feel like to have the fate of the country resting entirely on you,'_ she mused, wishing she had Zwei for company as she headed along the trail through the forest outside of Brightwall.

She heard howling in the distance that could only belong to a wolf pack, and she reached for her pistol. _'Three of them, by the sounds of it.'_

Her first encounter with the predators resurfaced, and she shuddered. She'd never forget how close the wolf was to tearing her throat open and leaving her body to rot on the icy slopes; she probably would've been killed had it not been for Zwei. Her corgi immediately rushed to the rescue and helped her defeat them, but today she wouldn't have that luxury. He needed to rest after the trek through the mountains, for he wasn't used to long journeys. It would be another few days before his body was used to the strain.

When the wolves came into view, she pulled out her weapon and crouched behind an oak tree, using it as cover. The predators didn't pick up her scene thanks to her being downwind of them, and she aimed her pistol and fired.

The first wolf fell from a well placed shot to the neck. Its yelp was brief, but enough to get the attention of the other two. They jumped around and saw the young Hero, barking fiercely. One charged with a snarl, and Joan fired right into its ugly face. It dropped in a heap and its corpse slid down the trail until it stopped about thirty feet below.

The last wolf stalked cautiously, being more hesitant about attacking her with its pack destroyed, and Joan took advantage; she blasted it with a Shock spell, frying the creature until it was nothing more than a heap of bone.

She was surprised by the effects the spell had now. "By Avo…" _'I just turned a wolf to bones? How? Only a day ago, I was barely able to kill them with two hits.'_

The blonde princess looked at her hand as it became cloaked in magic once again. The electric aura did seem stronger than it did before, and for a moment Joan wondered if it was merely an illusion caused by the snow reflecting the light more powerfully. But she soon dismissed that; her powers had in fact grown quite a bit, perhaps to compensate for battling an opponent like Raven.

Or perhaps this was just natural growth for a Hero, without other factors such as a new opponent.

Joan walked past the corpses, turning right to head through the forest that covered this section of Mistpeak. The trees cast their shadows on the ground, giving the whole area a very eerie feel, and Joan couldn't help but feel as though someone or something was watching her every movement.

She glanced around nervously, sure that at any minute a mercenary or bandit would leap down from the trees with a rusty axe in hand. _'I hate this. It feels like someone's watching me.'_

"Hello? Who's there?" she called out, reaching for her sword and drawing it. The blade shone in her gloved hand, with several dull runes now inscribed on its length.

However, nothing answered her call but silence and the soft cawing of crows. She watched as the murder of crows flew away in a hurry, leaving nothing but glossy black feathers in their wake, and she lowered her sword. _'I'm just seeing things. Quit acting so paranoid; you have a mercenary camp to seize, and you can't afford to be thinking that an enemy is hiding behind every damned bush in the kingdom. That kind of thinking makes you be like Logan.'_

She lowered her gaze when she thought of her brother. Early in his reign, Logan had ruled with a firm but fair hand, never being overly harsh. He would always go on expeditions to faraway lands such as Samarkand and Knothole Island up till about four years ago.

However, he still remained that calm, decisive leader that he was, until the past year or so. The taxes he imposed on the people were rather steep and he handed control of Bowerstone Industrial to a man named Reaver, whose business practices were very cruel if the rumors were to be believed.

A little sliver of doubt still remained in her mind, even after Logan ordered Yang and the civilians protesting outside the castle to be sentenced to death. She still believed that the big brother she knew and loved remained somewhere within and it was only buried underneath.

But then the music box she retrieved from the Reliquary showed her just how far he had fallen from his former self. His dark eyes were cold in that vision, and the iciness of his tone was enough to freeze any metal, whether it be iron, steel, or even obsidian.

And yet, something about it still seemed off to her. _'In the vision, he said, "I've seen what must be done, and nothing will stand in my way." What did he mean by that? Did he see something from Ozpin?'_

Even though he hadn't lied to her so far, she couldn't help but feel as though part of the truth was being hidden from her. What, though, she didn't know.

And she didn't exactly have the time to ponder on that mystery at the moment.

The forest thinned out to reveal the steep cliffside path that led down to a beautiful lake. In the distance on the opposite side was a small fortress, guarded by what appeared to be a heavy barricade of some kind.

' _That must be the fortress hiding Raven.'_ Joan started to make the trek down, stopping to pick up a shiny necklace someone must have dropped. A quick look told her the piece of jewelry was in fine condition, and it would fetch a decent price at the pawnbroker back in town.

Alongside the winding path was another one, this one leading to a rather ominous looking cave with bits of ice protruding from the mouth. A cold and bitter wind howled out of it, and the princess covered her arms and tried to prevent her teeth from chattering as the cold shook her very bones. _'I'm not going in that damn place if I can help it. It's probably full of wolves, bats, and who knows what else.'_ She gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of the dangerous beasts that probably called that cave home and she was glad the path she was on led her away from it.

The lake's gentle waves lapped at the shore, and she could see more trees surrounding a path that went even further into the region's thick forest. This part of Mistpeak was much more temperate than by the Dweller Camp, and she was thankful for the better weather conditions; nothing was worse than having to fight while being cold.

Her path ended at the shore of the lake, and she could see into its crystal clear depths. Fish darted between underwater rocks as her shadow passed over them, and she wished she had a rod; if she could catch just one or two of them, she could learn how to start cooking for herself. Out in the wilderness, it was a useful trait to learn. She wouldn't always have the luxury of a fresh homemade meal like last night.

The fortress loomed ahead menacingly, and she could make out a single guard atop a watchtower by the gates. _'A sentry. I'll have to take him out before he gets a chance to sound the alarm.'_

It meant having to use her pistol, but the range was far too great for her. She'd have to get much closer in order to use it.

To the left of the entrance to the camp was a small incline where racks of logs sat, having been freshly cut down. It provided her with the perfect amount of cover to sneak in. _'Perfect. I can use that to hide and pick him off. I'll only get one shot, so I'll need to make it count.'_

She quickly made her way over to the log piles and pulled out her pistol, controlling her slightly shaky hand. She aimed, took a deep breath, and fired. A single shot rang out, and before the sentry knew what was happening, he toppled off from his perch with a bullet between the eyes.

Joan holstered her smoking pistol and came out, jumping onto the small makeshift stone bridge crossing a small portion of the lake and crossing over. Taking her first human life was a much different feel than when she fought the hollow men. Those creatures were undead and mindless.

The mercenary she just killed was alive. It breathed the same air she did, it had a mind, and its heart used to beat. For the very first time, blood of another human was on her hands, and she didn't like the way it made her feel. It made her feel cold and heartless, like the assassin who killed Thomas Kaidkin earlier. _'No, I'm nothing like that assassin. They murdered an innocent man for no reason. I killed a mercenary to protect their victims and myself.'_

"Are you thinking about how it makes you feel, madam?" Klein asked. "Port says it gets easier to do over time. I'm not quite sure that's a good thing."

"I am." Joan let out a sigh. "They say only a beast kills without feeling. I'm not sure I want to get used to taking the lives of others." _'I hate it, but it's an ugly necessity. It's better if I don't think about it.'_

The blonde stopped in front of the heavy wooden gate. It didn't look particularly tough, but there was no way she could break it down with her sword. _'I have to use my magic.'_

Both hands became alive with lightning, and she focused a good chunk of her magical power into the spell before casting it. The bolt of lightning tore through the thick wood, and the gate crumbled with a loud crash. Joan realized how lucky she was that no one else was around; if anyone were in earshot, they definitely would've heard that. "Well…that was subtle."

Still, at least now she had a way inside.

Joan started to make her way through camp, and she passed by cannons guarded by barricades along with another watchtower. No mercenaries were around, but she could still hear gunfire in the distance.

She went in deeper, and she passed by several tough iron cages housing wolves. A lone mercenary was standing guard, and he drunkenly chuckled when he saw her. "Ah, nice to see you again Jimmy. Back from killing some Dwellers? How about we have a pint?"

Joan ignored him and walked past without so much as a blink, sending a silent prayer to Avo that the mercenary was so drunk he couldn't tell that Joan wasn't who he thought she was. _'I never thought there would be a day where I was grateful for alcohol.'_

"Aw come on, don't be shy." The man grinned sleazily at her, and Joan tasted bile in the back of her throat. The few teeth that did remain were stained yellow from lack of cleaning them, and his rough face was littered with scars.

He was about as visually appealing as the carcass of a vulture.

Joan continued to walk past him, shuddering as she did, and she was finally within the main camp.

It was guarded by wooden walls that towered ten feet high to block out intruders, and scattered around its perimeter were at least eight mercenaries, more than enough to make her worried as she approached the second gate. Cannons and barricades were around her, and she prayed the two mercenaries guarding the second gate were as drunk as the one she passed by earlier.

The one standing by the wooden shack outside the gate growled and reached for his rusty sword. "We've got an intruder, boys! Get her!"

' _I really should've known better than to hope for that.'_ Joan drew her own blade and cut down her attacker. He fell in a heap, clutching his wounded chest in an attempt to prevent the blood from pouring out. However, his fingers did little to stop the crimson tide, and he toppled over.

She had no time to relish on her victory, as soon she was forced to roll to the ground to avoid a cleaver cutting her in half. Her attacker wrenched his weapon free from the dirt with an angry snarl and he swung it at her again. Joan blocked the blow, using a bashing technique to stagger him. He stumbled, and he let out a gurgle of pain as Joan's sword tore through his leather armor and sank into his chest.

She pulled it free and switched to her pistol; at the moment, none of the six remaining mercenaries had dared to get close to her after they watched her kill two of those who were foolish enough. Instead, they had aimed their rifles at her and were firing angrily, calling her rather deplorable names in the process.

"You damned wench!"

"Dirty tosser!"

"Cheap harlot!"

If it weren't for the fact that her life was in danger, the princess would've laughed.

Joan dove behind a stack of sandbags to use them for cover, occasionally poking her head out to fire a few bullets at her attackers. It was her first good old fashioned gunfight. It felt different from when she used her sword or magic; it made her feel like she was in one of her father's stories about the war to unite Albion into one kingdom.

She was ripped out of her small fantasy by a loud explosion. One of the barrels next to a mercenary had blown up and killed him, and she frowned. _'I was pretty sure I didn't hit that. Unless he did?'_

It shouldn't have done that, unless it was filled with some kind of explosive substance.

Like gunpowder.

Joan smiled. There was a way for her to make this much, much easier. Instead of aiming for the mercenaries, she aimed for the barrels. One good shot was enough to cause a large explosion, and she made short work of them, blowing up two at a time with one shot.

"Open the gates! We need reinforcements!" the last one yelled before he was sent skyward.

The blonde turned around as the gate opened, and two mercenaries already had their weapons drawn. They opened fire, and she was forced to hide behind the sandbags again. "Dammit."

She readied her magic this time around, and when she stood up she hit both of them with two blasts of lightning. Their bodies spasmed uncontrollably, and they screamed in pain as they were electrocuted to death.

She winced. It would take a long time before the pained yells of the men she had killed so far didn't ring constantly in her ears.

It was a part of battle she'd have to develop a stomach for.

She pushed past their bodies in a hurry, sword drawn to meet the blade of another mercenary. She slid her blade down and caught it under the handle, yanking it free from his grasp. Before he could even yell in surprise, he fell from a fatal strike across his body.

Two more opened fire on her, and she hit them with two Shock spells. Their skeletons were all that remained, and Joan steeled herself before pressing onward through the camp.

Three mercenaries sat behind a twenty foot wall of sandbags, and the blonde spotted two barrels of gunpowder next to them. _'Perfect.'_

She hid behind a tree and fired her own pistol at them. She was rewarded with two loud explosions, and she heard a familiar voice whoop in excitement.

"Whee! Look at the ugly bastards fly!" A gnome on the third inner wall laughed. "How did you know I liked fireworks?"

"Ugh, there's one of you here, too?" Joan rubbed her temples and sighed. "There's really no escaping you, is there?"

"Nope." The gnome's stupid smirk grew and it leered at her. "Not sure I like the outfit, Blondie. Doesn't exactly showcase your assets, if you get what I mean." If the thing was capable of winking, Joan was sure it was right now.

"And that's why I immediately prefer it now." Joan rolled her eyes. "It prevents you from looking under my skirt." _'It's a lie. I honestly prefer having a perverted gnome try looking up my skirt than wear this sloppy mess.'_

She would've loved to continue bickering with the immobile magic stone man, but a mercenary ahead snarled at her and opened three wolf cages. The wolves jumped out with angry growls and began to stalk towards her, and the gnome offered its opinion on how to deal with them.

"Kick them in the crotch!" it suggested.

Joan was sure her groan of frustration was heard throughout the entirety of Mistpeak.

The blonde killed the wolves with her magic, keeping a good distance from them as to not let them pounce on her like they did in the mountains yesterday. The mercenary was stunned by the sight of her using magic, and he didn't get a chance to insult her thanks to a bullet to the head.

"Nice shooting there," the gnome complimented. "You're pretty handy with a pistol."

The camp was deprived of mercenaries, save for a lot of noise behind a final pair of gates, and Joan took a deep breath before she stepped in to confront Raven. _'Alright, time to put an end to the Dweller's suffering.'_

She was in some kind of arena, with mercenaries standing above her, and in the middle waiting for her was Raven.

The woman was nothing like Joan expected her to be. When Port told her about the mercenary leader, she expected a ferocious warrior with a serious attitude problem to match.

However, Raven was beautiful, with a long mane of black hair and a red and black dress. She seemed eerily calm, even though Joan had just cut a bloody swathe through the camp to find her.

"So," she drawled. "You're the one who has left the impressive trail of bodies. You certainly aren't one of those damned Dwellers."

She turned to her surviving men. "Do not interfere, regardless of what happens. She's mine."

"Get in line!" the gnome yelled. Joan could only sigh in exasperation, reaching for her sword and wishing the stupid perverted thing would shut up. _'Even though I'm about to fight, it's still insisting on flirting with me.'_

She really wished she shot it earlier when she had the chance, if only to have some peace and quiet.

Raven leapt down from her perch, katana in hand. "Let's get this over with." The black-haired warrior lunged towards Joan, and the blonde princess barely got her own blade in the way in time to block it.

Just from that attack, Joan could tell that Raven was far more dangerous than anything or anyone she had previously fought. She was heavily trained, fast, and much more unpredictable.

Joan slid back, and she rolled out of the way of a dangerous swipe.

"You're pretty quick," Raven remarked. "If you hadn't killed so many of my men, I'd extend an invitation for you to join."

"Don't you think she's a little young for you?" the gnome taunted. "You gotta be what, thirty two? She's only eighteen, you pervert."

Raven glared in the direction of the gnome, surprising Joan a little. _'She can hear it two? But how?'_

The princess took the opportunity to land a pair of quick strikes while she was distracted. Raven stumbled, and she spat in anger. "So, that's how you want to play? Fine by me."

To the blonde's shock, Raven's hand became cloaked in flame and she cast a Fireball spell at her. Joan countered with a quick Shock spell, and Raven smirked at the look of surprise on her face. "Surprised? I may not be a pure Hero like yourself, but magic runs deep in my family's blood. I'm sure you know of Twinblade."

Joan knew of the Hero turned bandit king from the books in the castle library. He was an utter giant of a man and reigned over the southern reaches of Albion with an iron fist, but he was ultimately defeated by Jaune Arc of Oakvale centuries ago.

Once again, the bloodlines would clash.

"And I'm sure you know of Jaune Arc," the blonde countered. _'She's one of Twinblade's descendants. No wonder she can use magic and hear tha annoying idiot.'_

"I thought I recognized that prowess with Shock magic," Raven replied with a scoff. "No matter. It won't save you."

"I won't need it to." Joan pulled out her pistol and fired.

Using her reflexes, Raven was able to deflect the bullets away from her, and Joan became irritated. In terms of speed they evenly matched, and right now the blonde couldn't find a way to slow the mercenary leader down.

The two traded blows, occasionally trying to hit each other with a magic attack that would be nullified. However, it was Raven who managed to draw first blood with a quick feint attack to Joan's chest. The princess leaned back to avoid the worst of the blow, but the very tip of Raven's katana cut through the thin leather of Joan's shirt. Blood welled up from the cut, and Joan winced at the sting. _'Dammit. I was careless, and I got hit. I'm lucky that isn't deeper.'_

"Don't let that hag get the better of you!" the gnome yelled encouragingly from the sidelines. "Hit her flat chest back!"

"Oh, do shut up," Raven snarled.

Joan felt her blood become alive, and a new green spell clocked her right hand. _'What? What spell is this?'_ She cast it, and time itself slowed down.

It was the Time Control spell her father once mastered, many decades ago.

This was her trump card. Raven may have been stronger and more trained, but Joan's magic was much more powerful and she could use spells the mercenary leader couldn't. _'NOW!'_

With the spell active, Joan began to slash at her. She hit Raven three times in a span of less than five seconds; one across her stomach, one on the inside of her leg, and the final one on her hand. Raven hissed in pain and was forced to drop her sword as she fell, and Joan caught the fallen blade just as the spell wore off, holding them at her throat.

Raven had fallen to her knees, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. "Not bad, girl. Kill me or let me live, it's your choice and my men and I will respect it. We may be mercenaries, but we have our codes like any other soldiers. Regardless, we'll leave the Dwellers be. And that is a promise from one warrior to another."

Joan had a choice to make. Her brother would've cut Raven's head off without so much as a blink of an eye.

But Joan wasn't him, and wouldn't be like him. _'More bloodshed isn't necessary. The point has already been made.'_

She sheathed her sword and handed Raven's back to her, helping her up. "There doesn't need to be any more blood spilled today. Enough have died already."

"I won't forget this," Raven murmured, strapping her own weapon back on her belt. "You've earned my respect as a fellow combatant."

Joan nodded, and the mercenaries opened the gates to let her pass by unscathed. As soon as they closed behind her, she was forced to her knees with an agonizing jolt of pain. "AH!"

She labored for breath, holding her side, and when it wore off, the handles of her sword and pistol were more decorated. Both of them had a slight curve to them, perhaps to make it easier to spin them around, and her magic felt even stronger now that she had learned to use a Time Control spell.

However, she was only able to slow it down for a few seconds; she imagined it would take longer before she was capable of using it to affect time for longer periods.

She passed by the gnome and it chuckled. "Not too shabby. Looks like you had both a magic and looks advantage."

"Please stop talking." Joan's temptation to shoot it returned. "Now."

"Come on, admit it already. You definitely got the better rear end."

"What part of shut up do you not understand?" The blonde let out an irritated hiss and reached for her pistol.

"I saw you looking at her breasts."

Joan finally cracked and fired her pistol at it. "Shut up!"

The gnome began to glow, and the blonde stared in shock as it transformed into a handsome man with messy black hair and pale red eyes. A torn dark red cape was attached to his grey shirt, and he wore a pair of black pants with a greatsword hung across his back. _'No way…please tell me this is some kind of stupid dream.'_

He pumped his fist into the air with a laugh. "Finally, I'm free from that stupid curse. I tell you, don't sleep with a sprite. Little bastards are nasty pieces of work."

Joan's shock wore off, and she glared at him with her sword in hand. "Who the hell are you?"

The man slicked his bangs back, drinking from a flask he pulled from his pocket. "The name's Qrow. I was the Guildmaster of the Heroes Guild after Weaver died. What year is it?"

"The Guild burned four hundred fifty years ago," Joan replied slowly, lowering her sword. He wasn't a threat at least.

"What? That long? Damn, Scythe is going to kill me." Qrow scratched the back of his head with an awkward chuckle, and he looked at her curiously. "Now that I think of it…you really remind me of someone I knew. What's your name? I didn't exactly catch in the time I spent teasing you."

"Joan."

"Joan, huh? Pretty. Suits you well."

"I'm flattered." Joan rolled her eyes. "So, who is this person I supposedly remind you of?"

"Jaune Arc. The Hero of Oakvale."

"You knew my forefather?" Joan asked.

"I certainly did." Qrow's gaze raked down her body and he gave her a suggestive wink. "Though you are much easier on the eyes."

Joan blushed and looked away. Knowing that the gnome hitting on her and taunting her enemies was in fact a handsome Hero who she could only presume was cursed by a sprite did make her feel a certain way, and she didn't like it. "Don't make me shoot you again, you dirty old man."

"Old? Who are you calling old?" Qrow smirked. "I am not old. I got moves for days, Blondie."

Joan pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh of exasperation as she started to walk through the camp. "You have a way with words that really make me regret freeing you." _'The smell…ugh, it makes my stomach churn. Blood, sweat, and gunpowder do not make for a good combination.'_

"Damn, you don't have a sense of humor at all." Qrow folded his hands behind his head with a dramatic sigh, following her out of the camp. "Most women in Albion would've thrown themselves at me by now asking me to take them."

Joan faced him in anger, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "Most women didn't watch as the love of their life was sentenced to death in front of them! Do you even have the slightest clue what that's like!?"

Qrow's smile faded and was replaced by a look of pain. "I do. I watched as my own lover was overpowered by balverines during a quest in Knothole Glade. I was pinned down by three of them, and let me tell you, it was by far the worst day of my life."

Joan buried her head in her hands, trying to fight the tears. "Yang…"

Qrow let out a sigh and wrapped an arm around her. "You're a good person, Joan. I can see it in your actions today and yesterday. The one thing you can't do is blame yourself. It's a path that will only lead you to ruin."

"Why her?" she asked in despair. "Why did she have to die?"

Qrow shook his head, rubbing her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. "Sometimes, bad things just happen. The only thing you can do is accept it and move on."

"Move on to what?"

"Well, you are trying to lead a revolution, are you not?" he pointed out. "I say you focus on that goal. Not for those you've lost, but for the people you haven't lost yet."

Joan wiped the tears from her eyes with a small snort of laughter. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you? I figured you were only a dirty, shameless old man. I didn't expect any words of wisdom to ever leave your mouth."

Qrow gave her a gentle thump on the back. "Hey, remember that I'm technically four hundred eighty years old. I get my wisdom being leagues older than you."

"And yet you don't look a day over thirty two."

"Comes with being a damn gnome for a millennia."

Joan rubbed her hands together as they left the shelter of Raven's mercenary camp; even at the base of the mountains, the cold wind still managed to nip at her. _'Even down here, it's chilly. Not as bad as up by the Dweller Camp, but still. I wouldn't like to walk around here with less than what I have on.'_

The wind coming off the lake probably made it feel chillier than it actually was.

"Cold?" Qrow asked, noticing her discomfort.

Joan nodded, and he untied his cape and placed it around her shoulders. "Here. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

The blonde wrapped it around her, looking at him worriedly. "Won't you be cold?" _'I'm grateful for the gesture, but I don't want him to be cold because of me.'_

He shook his head. "Nah. I spent a few years in Snowspire Village, up in the Northern Wastes. The cold doesn't bother me."

"Why did you live there? It sounds awful." Joan felt cold just thinking about the place.

"Blame Jaune for that one," Qrow replied with a snort, falling in next to her. "He and I made a bet that I wouldn't be able to stand the place. Turns out the village was a nice change of pace compared to the city of Bowerstone. No witches trying to abduct children, no corrupt guards; it was nice and peaceful."

Joan sighed. It was going to be a long three hour walk back to Brightwall.

She couldn't wait to rest at the inn, where Zwei was waiting for her. Her arms and legs ached from her fight with Raven, and the cold wasn't helping. It was starting to lull her to sleep, and in her present condition it was dangerous for her to attempt to scale the slippery slopes. _'By Avo, I'm exhausted. I feel like I'm going to pass out.'_

She pinched her arm in an attempt to shake off her drowsiness. The brief sting of pain did little to rouse her, however, and her eyelids grew heavier with each step.

Qrow noticed her fatigue, and he put his arm out in front of her. "Come on, kiddo. I'll carry you back."

"I'm fine," Joan insisted, stumbling a little. "Just a little tired."

The older Hero sighed, crouching down to carry her on his back. "No, you're not. You can barely stand; it wouldn't do you any good to push yourself until you passed out. Besides, I know where to go thanks to being a gnome."

Before Joan could even protest, he had picked her up effortlessly. Her head rested against his shoulder, and she let her weary eyes close with a murmur. "Thank you…"

It didn't take even thirty seconds before she fell asleep on his back.

 _ **A/N: Annnnnd that's a wrap for this chapter! Please, tell me what you think in the review section below! I'm eager to hear your thoughts on it, so don't refrain from telling me how you feel about this. See you soon!**_

 _ **Discord: C. Strife #5371**_


	5. A Masterful Performance

_**A/N: Hello all, and welcome to chapter five. This is quickly turning into a favorite fic to write, mainly because of the amount of fun I get to have with Fable's lore. It's just such a fun series to explore, and if you haven't played them, do it :D**_

 _ **In terms of the quests for this part of Fable's story, I picked the missing play, lost child, and chickens running amok. Wouldn't make sense for me to do the gnome quest, as amusing as it is.**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***A Masterful Performance***

Qrow paused for breath halfway up the mountain, taking the time to push Joan a little higher up his back. The princess had long since fallen asleep, and a light dusting of snow from an approaching snowstorm was sprinkled on her. If it weren't for the little whimpers and the way she tightly gripped his shirt, she would've looked peaceful.

"Only a little further to go, kiddo," he murmured, not wanting to disturb her. Albion was far different from when he last walked the country; he wasn't even aware that they had managed to find suitable places to live in the country's eastern mountains until he was woken up by Joan.

The girl was practically the spitting image of Jaune, with the same blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. Yet for as much as they looked alike, Qrow did see some differences between them.

For one, Joan definitely didn't have his messed up sense of humor. Jaune was one who could both take it and dish it out no problem.

Jaune also preferred to use greatswords like Qrow, whereas Joan seemed to prefer smaller blades that relied on her speed and agility. And if he had to place bets, Qrow would say that Joan's magical capabilities exceeded Jaune's by a great deal. Her ability to use a Slow Time was unlike anything the older Hero had seen. It was able to affect even a partial Hero like Raven effortlessly, and it was her first time using it. Qrow was impressed.

Despite the few differences, Qrow could see the similarities. Both of them were burdened with a destiny of greatness, and the weight of the world was pressing firmly on their shoulders in an attempt to break them. Jaune had succeeded in fulfilling his destiny, stopping Jack of Blades twice and becoming possibly the strongest Hero of that era, but Joan's was only just beginning and already the odds were heavily stacked against her.

The pressure Qrow felt when he was elected to the position of Guildmaster of the Heroes Guild after Weaver's assassination was nothing compared to the pressure the young princess must be feeling.

Joan muttered something incoherent in her sleep, and Qrow took a breath before continuing his trudge up the mountains. There was a blizzard on the way, and he wanted to be well within the safety of Brightwall when it came.

Though knowing his luck, he'd end up caught in it, regardless of his pace.

He was happy when he reached the small forest just outside the village after another thirty minutes; he didn't want to spend any more time in the cold than he had to. Just because he lived in Snowspire Village for four years didn't mean he enjoyed freezing his rear end off.

Not to mention he currently had royalty clinging to his back like a child does to a toy bear. _'Cute.'_

Joan lazily blinked one blue eye open, her voice thick with sleep. "Are we there yet?

Qrow shook his head. "Not yet. Go back to sleep, princess; you need it."

For a moment, he wondered if the princess would try and object. However she closed her eye and went back to sleep without a fuss.

Qrow could tell in the few days he spent teasing her as a gnome that Joan was a person with a pure heart. She didn't have to spare Raven; in fact, most would've cut her down right then and there. However, Joan didn't even hesitate in her decision. She was young, full of hopes and dreams and still trying to figure out her views on the world.

He didn't see her as naïve; she seemed to have a decent understanding of the littlest choice having far-reaching consequences. Even though it had the potential to horribly backfire on her, Qrow still thought she made the right choice in sparing the mercenary. Word of both her strength and compassion in battle would spread through the land like a wildfire, and having the support of both Sabine and Raven would be very beneficial to her cause. It was worth the gamble of Raven possibly turning on her in the future.

The trees gave way to reveal the village ahead, and Qrow sighed in relief. _'Finally. We're almost back.'_

He walked over the large stone bridge, taking a moment to enjoy the spectacular view. He could see a river running its course far below, and Qrow let the wind ruffle his messy hair before he continued on, walking through the giant gates and into the safety of Brightwall Village.

Inside the walls, the guards were ushering people into the safety of their homes and the local inn; anyone who was unfortunate enough to be caught in the approaching blizzard would have to be extremely lucky to live to tell the tale.

Qrow knew perfectly well the blonde hadn't amassed enough gold to buy a house in the few days she spent in the village, and he made a beeline for the inn aware of the stares people were sending his way. The Hero rolled his eyes and sighed. _'They act like such an act of chivalry is something that only happens in bedtime stories.'_

The sooner he booked a pair of rooms, the better. It would keep him from saying something he'd instantly regret; there was a reason why Jaune refused to let him within twenty feet of the bar in Oakvale, and it was because Qrow had gotten into quite a few brawls for flirting with some drunk's wife. _'You'd be amused by how little I've changed, Jaune.'_

Hell, the kid would probably laugh at him and encourage it if he were alive now.

Qrow walked into the inn and approached the innkeeper. "Hey, does she have a room here?"

The innkeeper looked at the sleeping princess on his back and nodded. "She does. First one on the right. However, who are you?"

"I'm her uncle," Qrow lied, calling upon his magic to assist him. Guile was a passive magical ability he gained a long, long, time ago, and he was glad he did. _'Haven't had to use it in awhile. I'm glad I have my powers, even four hundred eighty years later.'_

The innkeeper didn't even question him and gave a nod. "Very well. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"Bottle of whiskey."

"As you wish. A bottle of our finest whiskey shall be brought up to you. Thank you for your custom."

"Likewise." Qrow headed upstairs and found the room Joan was renting out, opening it with some difficulty.

The room was decently sized, with one average bed and a desk with two chairs. A small corgi was waiting for them, and he lifted his head to let out a tired bark of greeting. Qrow placed the blonde princess in her bed, pulling the covers over her. "Sleep well, Blondie. You did good work today."

He meant every word, and Qrow removed his claymore from the strapped holster worn around his torso and rested it against the wall.

The older Hero took a look at the bookcase and found it was full of tomes regarding Albion's history. Being as out of the loop as he was, he decided to pull one out and he began to flick through its pages. "The Fall of the Guild, huh?" _'Alright, time to figure out what in the name of Avo happened in the nearly five hundred years I've been asleep.'_

He began to read and his lip curled in disgust. Ten years after both he was cursed and Jaune succumbed to illness, the Heroes of old began to bully the very people they were supposed to protect. Eventually, four hundred fifty years ago, the Anti-Hero League of Oakvale attacked the Guild and burned it to the ground. However, the victory was short-lived, as Oakvale met a horrifying end only fifty years later at the hands of the Shadow Court.

Qrow closed the book with a sigh and slicked his bangs back. Scythe really was going to beat him to death.

The door opened, and a cute brunette waitress stepped in with the bottle he ordered. "Sir, here's the drink you requested."

Qrow took it graciously and he took a sip, winking at her. "Thank you." With a blush on her face she left, and Qrow's pale red eyes admired the shake of her hips. He took a seat, glancing out of the lone window. Snow had begun to fall, a light dusting already on the ground. The sun had started its descent, and he let out a contented sigh.

Joan would love the view that greeted her in the morning. But for now, it was time for him to get some rest as a person for the first time in a few hundred years. "Alright, time to unwind."

* * *

Joan blinked her eyes open and found herself back in her bed at the inn. "Huh? How did I get here?" She felt the familiar lump of Zwei snuggled against her, and she gave his ears a scratch. "Hey Zwei."

She rubbed her eyes, and she jumped in surprise when she saw Qrow asleep in the chair by the desk with an empty bottle of whiskey in his hands. "What the hell!? What are you doing!?"

Qrow lazily blinked his eyes open, and he let out a yawn. "You're awake."

"Answer the question," Joan growled, covering herself with the thick blanket. "What are you doing in my room?"

Qrow stood up and cracked his neck, picking up his large sword. "I carried you back to the tavern. The innkeeper was nice enough to point me in the direction of your room. Don't look at me like that; I don't exactly have money for a room of my own."

Joan rolled her eyes and got out of bed, Zwei jumping down with her. "Well, thanks for carrying me."

The former Guildmaster gave her a lazy wink and walked out with his hands behind his head. "No problem. You should've heard the way you snored on my back."

Joan blushed and threw a pillow at his retreating back. "Hey! I don't snore!" He merely laughed as the pillow missed, sticking his tongue out to tease her.

This lecherous old mad was going to drive her nuts.

She followed him downstairs, and part of her wasn't surprised when an angry drunk stormed up to Qrow. "Hey, you! You're the bastard who slept with my wife last night!"

' _Why am I not surprised?'_ Joan let out an exasperated groan and rubbed her temples. "Really Qrow? Not even one day after I free you, you go ahead and do this?"

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Qrow objected, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "I was on good behavior last night!"

"Somehow, I find that incredibly hard to believe," the blonde muttered sarcastically.

"No, really," Qrow insisted, backing away from the drunk. "I promise that all I did last night was order a bottle of whiskey and read a few books to catch up on my history. I didn't bed anyone. It ain't my fault this idiot's wife cheated on him."

The drunk leapt at him with an angry roar, fist ready to sock Qrow in the face. The older Hero casually stepped to the side and let him soar headfirst into the bar. He crashed into it and didn't get up, and Qrow snorted. "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

Joan gave him a glare, hands on her hips. "Qrow…did you actually sleep with his wife? Be truthful."

"I promise you, I didn't have sex with anyone or anything last night," he answered solemnly. "Now that this is dealt with, what's next on the agenda?"

Joan's stomach growled loudly, and she blushed as several people stared at her. "Um…breakfast? I could use a bite to eat." _'I knew I shouldn't have fought on an empty stomach. I should've grabbed something before I left.'_

Qrow chuckled. "Alright, let's see what some of the vendors are selling."

She followed him outside, and her eyes widened when she saw the snow blanketing the town. "Wow." _'It's beautiful, like something out of the books Port and Father would read to me.'_

She approached the meat vendor, taking a look at the different slices of mutton. The tender meat's juices were trickling down, and her stomach growled even angrier.

"Um, how much is this?" she asked.

The vendor was an older woman, possibly in her early fifties, and she shivered and drew her cloak in tighter around in her body. "Eleven gold per slice. Freshly killed this morning." A bit of pride slipped into her voice there.

Joan reached into her pockets for a handful of gold, taking a little more time than necessary to warm up her hands just a little bit; the temperature meant her hands were slowly going numb from the cold, and the silky fabric of her gloves were not helping. _'Dammit. I knew I should've stuck with the fur gloves instead.'_

She fished out the necessary gold and handed it to her. In return she was given three perfectly cut chops of freshly cooked meat, and she handed one to Qrow. "Here. I know you don't exactly have money on you."

"Thanks." They ate their breakfast quickly, and the blonde princess rubbed her hands together to keep them warm before she set off to find out where the hell Port could have gone to. He wasn't in the pub despite having a taste for alcohol and wenches, and a quick peek to her left told her he wasn't in the weapons shop either.

' _It's way too cold for this rubbish.'_ "Klein, can you send me the fur gloves I bought a few days ago?" she pleaded. "My hands are freezing."

"As you wish, madam," Klein replied. One bright flash of light later, and Joan's icy hands were encased by the soft warm furs of the Dweller gloves.

"Thank you, Klein," she murmured gratefully. "I appreciate it."

"Well, it wouldn't do us any good if the princess lost her hands before she could lead her triumphant rebellion, would it?" Klein returned with a jovial laugh. "I imagine it would be disastrous."

Qrow snorted in laughter, only to be silenced by an unamused glare from Joan. The blonde sighed and sent a silent prayer to Avo to that she would be able to make it through the day without succumbing to the temptation to strangle the older Hero. _'I really, really want him to shut his mouth. Otherwise, I might kill him.'_

' _Look on the bright side, Joan. At least he isn't an annoying garden gnome trying to flirt with you.'_ She had to be thankful for the little things, and she rolled her eyes. "Klein, do you know where in Avo Port decided to run off to? I haven't found him anywhere in town yet, and it is freezing cold."

"Eh, it isn't that bad. You complain too much, you spoiled princess."

"Shut up, Qrow. Not all of us are freaks who like to be in the icy wilderness for long periods of time."

"If I may interject before you two decide to brawl in the middle of the town square," Klein interrupted dryly. "Port is currently speaking with Miss Goodwitch in the Brightwall Academy. I do hope he's found some way of occupying himself while he's waiting for you."

"Thank you, Klein. I'll head up there now," Joan replied. She gave Qrow one last glare, and the older Hero merely chuckled and slid his hands into his pockets. Yep, he was definitely going to drive her insane with his annoying antics.

She walked up towards the academy and she saw a flustered guard by the second square, waving over to her desperately. "Excuse me, do you have a minute?"

Joan and Qrow exchanged looks of confusion, but the blonde shrugged her shoulders and approached him. "Sure. What's the matter?" _'I really would've hoped not to stop moving in this cold. As beautiful as the snow is, it's freezing.'_ She was thankful that the mercenary boots were just as durable as the ones worn by the Dwellers; she was sure her royal attire would've been soaked by now.

The guard brushed a flurry of snow off of his red coat, clutching his musket tightly. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but we've recently had a jailbreak. Sadly, with the guard budget being low thanks to the king, we don't have enough men on duty to track the bastard down. If you were to find the slippery little bugger, I'd pay you for your time. Just grab 'em and drag them back here. No doubt they'll kick up a fuss, but I'm sure you can handle it."

Joan looked at Qrow, and he shrugged his shoulders. "I'd say go for it, kiddo. You can always use the money." He did have a point there; Joan hadn't made it to the pawnbroker yet to sell the necklace she picked up yesterday, and this would be a good way to get her reputation known.

"I'll take it. Do you have a description for him?" she asked.

"That I do." The guard reached into his pocket and pulled out a wanted poster, with the wrinkly face of a late middle-aged man on it. "He's wanted for an armed robbery, so be careful."

Joan looked at it and nodded. "Don't worry; I'll get him back."

"Thank you. I'm in your debt." The guard breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, until I pay you, that is."

Joan set off, frowning. She knew the criminal would be hiding from sight as to not draw attention to himself, and actively hunting him would waste time.

"So, what's the plan? Turn the village upside down?" Qrow asked.

Joan shook her head. "No. We don't have the time to search the entire village. We'll have to play this one smart."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the necklace from earlier. It was shiny, of decent quality, and exactly the kind of thing a thief would be looking for. "We'll set a trap."

Qrow grinned approvingly. "I like the way you think, Blondie. But, what if someone else takes a liking to it? This isn't exactly a noble's paradise."

"True," Joan admitted. "But it's worth the gamble."

Qrow nodded, and he pointed over to a pair of thick bushes. "Let's hide in there. That way, when he comes out to grab it, we'll have him cornered. Nowhere for him to run."

Joan placed the necklace on the ground and retreated to the bushes. Now, all they had to do was wait. And they didn't have to wait long.

Perhaps only ten minutes after the piece of jewelry was planted, a scruffy-looking man crept out of the shadows of a house. His pockets bulged with stolen goods, and his shifty eyes darted around nervously. A quick look at the wanted poster told the blonde this was their target.

She went to get him when Qrow put an arm on her to stop her.

"Wait," he whispered.

The thief's greedy eyes lit up when he saw the necklace laying on the ground seemingly his for the taking, and he bent down to pick it up with a soft chuckle. "Hehe…look who is lucky today."

"Now!" Joan and Qrow leapt, springing their ambush. Both Heroes had the thief surrounded, and he immediately put his hands in the air.

"P-please, don't shoot! I beg you!" he pleaded.

Qrow had his greatsword pointed at him, his pale eyes narrowed. "We're not mercenaries. Unlike petty thieves like you, we have honor. Get moving, now."

With his hands in the air, Joan and Qrow escorted him back to the guard, who was waiting for them. The soldier drew his own iron sword, chuckling. "Well, well, well. Look who it is. Welcome back, mate."

"Please, it's hell in there!" the thief cried, looking at Joan desperately. "Surely a pretty young girl like yourself can show mercy, right?"

"This is showing mercy," Joan said with a growl. "You do the crime, you do the time."

"Thank you for the help; you're real heroes of the people," the guard said, throwing a bag of gold to the blonde. "Here's your reward."

"Just doing our duty." Joan hefted the bag. It was quite heavy, and she peeked inside to see at least seven hundred gold coins inside, perhaps even more. _'Off to a good start. Now, if only I could find a more consistent line of work, that would be nice.'_

As much as it paid, bounty hunting like this only sprung up occasionally. A steady line of income would help her out more in the long run.

The only problem was she didn't know what she was good at. Being a blacksmith wasn't something she was good at, even though both Port and her father tried to show her how to use a hammer and anvil.

Baking was also not her strong suit. Too many times she and Yang accidentally set part of the castle kitchens on fire trying to make pies, and Logan was usually the one who had to dump water on it to prevent it from getting out of control. Most times, he was far too exasperated and tired to properly reprimand her, but after the last incident he made sure that she was never allowed within five feet of the ovens ever again.

She didn't have time to dwell on it at the moment, though.

The blonde set off up towards the academy again, and when she entered she saw two people dressed in fancy costumes bickering with each other as they left. _'I wonder what that was all about. Were they looking for a play or something?'_

She looked at Qrow, and the older Hero merely shrugged and took another chug from his flask. He was going to be a real winner with Port; her mentor was sure to take him to the side and berate him to make sure he didn't try anything funny with the blonde.

Part of her pitied Qrow, as annoying as he had been as a gnome. Lectures from Port were not something she wished on anyone; they were long, drawn out, and overall had the amazing ability to lull one to sleep faster than a bottle of wine.

Then part of her remembered just how irritating his attempts to flirt with her mid-combat were. _'Yeah, he's due for a little bit of misery.'_ Zwei nudged her leg with a whine, and she patted his head. "Don't worry; we'll be inside before you know it." Being a dog with short hair, he would naturally not like the cold weather.

Joan picked up her pace, and she soon back in the academy.

Inside she could hear Port and Glynda having a conversation about one of the special ales they served at the tavern, and the old soldier chuckled when he saw her. "Aha! There you are! We've already made a toast to the stupendous feat of ridding Mistpeak of Raven's mercenaries. Sabine will be quite pleased; his Dwellers may actually have some peace now."

He stopped, looking at Qrow curiously. "And who the bloody hell are you, exactly?"

Qrow scratched the back of his head, letting out an awkward chuckle. "It's…kind of a long story."

Port's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You and I are going to have a little talk. Anyway, I was telling Glynda about the terrible situation the Dwellers are in. She thinks she might be able to help."

"Indeed." Glynda nodded. "However, as I was just explaining to Port, Brightwall doesn't have an overabundance of resources itself. The king's levies are rather steep, and we face far too many shortages than we'd like. But, if you were to improve things around the village, the people would be most grateful. And when they're grateful, they're also charitable. I'm sure they could find it in their hearts to send aid to those poor people."

"There you have it," Port said, taking a large gulp from his flagon of ale. "The way I see it, you'll need all the successful followers you can get if you're to lead a successful rebellion. What better way to start? If I'm correct, I recall hearing a few rumors around town about those two actors named Pinch and Lambert looking for some lost play. See what you can do about that; they have quite a bit of influence here."

Joan nodded, and headed on her way out. "Got it." Zwei tugged on her hand with his mouth, ears flat against his head, and she let out a sigh. "Port, can you do me a favor? Keep Zwei indoors; he doesn't like the cold anymore than I do."

"Don't worry; i'll take care of him." Port chuckled, and dragged Qrow over to him by his coat. "You, with me. Now."

Yep, Joan didn't feel an ounce of sympathy as the older Hero was dragged away.

The blonde headed outside, and the two she saw earlier looked at her hopefully. "Excuse me, madam, who lives in such a troubled epoch. Don't you thirst for the drama and emotion of a properly structured tragic play?"

"Of course not!" His friend interrupted before Joan could actually answer, and he shook his head. "You want to escape your troubles! You want to be amused!"

"We shall never agree," the first man sighed.

"If only we could get our hands on Morley's lost play. It would solve all our problems," the second agreed.

"Yes." The first nodded. "It is said to combine the opposites of tragedy and comedy in a unique marriage of words. Perhaps…you could find it?"

"Where was it last seen?" Joan asked.

"It was supposed to be held somewhere in Brightwall Academy," the man replied, wiping a flurry of snow from his elegant coat. "You should know we did commission a detective to search the library for clues as to its whereabouts, but he never returned. His name is Ransom Locke, and he's a little closer to senility than he'd like to admit, truth be told. However, if you happen across this gentleman, he may be able to assist you. I believe he is currently searching for the collective works of the playwright Philipth Morley as we speak."

"Understood." Joan nodded and headed back inside the academy, trying not to snicker as she heard Port chewing Qrow out from inside one of the many reading rooms. Glynda had already left, perhaps to tend to her other duties, and the blonde princess headed towards a pair of open doors near the back of the library.

As she approached the doors, they mysterious slammed shut with a strange ghostly warning. "Turn back now, mortal one."

"Very funny." Joan opened the doors and rolled her eyes, continuing on.

The voice continued to haunt her footsteps with warnings. "Stay away from this accursed place. Only death and insanity await you."

A second pair of doors slammed shut, and after Joan opened them, she saw the lost play hovering above a pedestal thanks to some kind of magic. _'There it is. Good. But where's the detective?'_

Something about this seemed…very off.

"Don't pick the bloody thing up!" the ghostly voice snapped. "No, really, I'm serious!"

Ignoring him, Joan picked up the book and flipped through its pages, and she nearly dropped it in surprise when the ghostly head of an angry noble popped out. "You lot just can't leave me well enough alone! Bloody literary tourists. Bane of my afterlife!"

The head disappeared back into the old pages and before Joan could react, she was sucked into the book and lost conscious.

* * *

When Joan regained consciousness, the first thing she was aware of was the hard ground she was lying on. The second thing was the ghostly apparition making rather rude hand gestures at her as she struggled up to her feet.

"Listen," he growled. "You're not getting my lost play! It's rubbish! Worse than rubbish! What the bloody hell was I thinking, mixing tragedy with comedy? I must have been off my rocker."

He faded away, and Joan groaned and held her head. "What…the hell just happened?" _'What is this place? Where am I?'_

Looking around, she appeared to be in an old theater of sorts, with a very frilly and lacy costume hanging up.

An elderly man sitting on a bench closed the book he was reading, sighing and lighting his pipe. "I'm afraid, dear madam, that you have been unfortunate enough to be apprehended by the ghost of Philipth Morley. That makes us both his captives."

Joan reached for her sword. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ransom Locke," he introduced, puffing a cloud of fragrant smoke. "If the name sounds familiar, it is because I was once a detective of some renown. And yet, here I am to live out the rest of my days trapped in a book. From what I can deduce, we are currently in a scene from one of Morley's greatest romantic plays, 'The Near Tragedy of Oliver and Ethel'. I believe if we are to escape, we must act out the scene. However, theater has never been one of my talents. If I'm correct, putting on this costume should set things in motion."

He gestured the costume she saw earlier, and Joan sighed. "I guess I don't have a choice, do I? if I'm awful at it…well, I never claimed to be an actress." Ransom chuckled at that.

The blonde princess put it on, and before her appeared a ghostly actor. The stands were filled with spectral guests, and the man clasped his hands over his chest. "Oh, Ethel, my love, my light, my sun. If you could provide just one gesture, proof of your affections, then might I find this grey existence worth living."

Joan looked over at the detective for help, and he was flicking through a script of the play. "Ah, a classic moment. You are Ethel, the beautiful young daughter of a dung merchant. Why he chose that…anyway. Just show Oliver that you love him, and we may leave this scene."

Joan steadied her racing nerves, taking a deep breath. _'Well…here goes nothing. I hope to Avo it works.'_ She dropped down to one knee, looking at Oliver. "My heart is yours, my love."

The ghost clapped his hands happily, smiling in relief. "Let the heavens and the seas and the toads and the eels sing the song in my heart, for she doth love me and all is well. We shall meet again in the morrow, my little ferret, and elope into the sunset to live out our days in wondrous joy!"

He faded away and the audience started applauding loudly in approval, whistling. Joan felt her confidence go up a little; she had done well for having no acting experience whatsoever. _'I did it. What do you know? Maybe I have a knack for this.'_

Ransom Locke was nodding in approval after she had changed back into her normal attire. "A magnificent rendition. Truly, I applaud you."

Joan's smile faded away once the ghost who abducted her appeared stroking his large mustache. "I see you are gifted with remarkable literary cunning. But, can you really comprehend the depths of my work? We shall see."

Before the blonde could yell back an angry retort, her and Ransom were in another scene, this time with a throne and a chicken costume. _'A chicken? You can't be serious!'_

Ransom investigated it, and he stroked his chin. "Ah, yes. This is undoubtedly a scene from one of Morley's earlier, funnier plays, 'Bloodbath at the Royal Court'. This must be your costume; I do wish it were a little less…well…"

"Ridiculous?" Joan tried.

Ransom snorted in laughter. "Yes. That. The role of the fool is one filled with tragic depth. It will require a masterful performance. Good luck."

Joan was so glad Qrow wasn't with her as she fitted the feathery costume on; he'd never let her hear the end of it. She took a seat in the throne, and that signaled the start of the scene. The angry ghost of a king appeared in front of her, brandishing his hands.

"What fresh insolence is this!?" he yelled. "Out of my throne, you impertinent buffoon. Stand before your king and do your jester's duty. It is a troublesome time for this court, and my crown grows heavy. So, make me laugh, or I shall have your head!"

' _Well, there goes any confidence I had in my acting abilities.'_ Joan rolled her eyes, and she got up before doing what Yang would always do to her to make her laugh.

She tickled the king.

The ghostly king laughed, clutching his stomach and trying to bat her away. "S-stop, please! This is too funny! Thank you, jester. I believe I am now in the right mood to meet with those irritating foreign delegates. I think I shall only have half of them beheaded, yes…"

He faded away like the previous actor did, and Ransom chuckled. "I've never seen a more convincing fool. There is hope for us yet."

Philipth Morley appeared again, his expression more curious than anything while Joan got rid of the feathery suit. "Hmm, you handle my royal dramas as well as my romances. But, will your versatility extend to the more subtle domains of theater, I wonder?"

Again the scene changed, this time into a gladiatorial arena, and Ransom Locke sighed in exasperation with a shake of his head. "Oh dear. Unless I'm mistaken, this is a scene from Morley's violent historical epic, Titus the Mutilator: Part II. This must be the gladiatorial arena from Act V, where Titus is finally slaughtered by savage warriors seeking revenge. Have you heard the tale of Titus?"

Joan nodded. Everyone had heard the story; Titus was an infamous murderer about two hundred fifty years ago, whose reign of terror in Bowerstone's slums last for five years before he was eventually caught. He was sentenced to fight to death in the Witchwood Arena, and it took twenty men to finally slay him. However, the destruction to the arena during the execution was immense and it was the last event to ever be held in Witchwood; the Crucible in the region of Westcliff would be the new attraction for the most skilled warriors in Albion, even now.

"Well, then there is no real need for me to explain what happens in this scene. It was a favorite of mine as a child," the detective admitted with an awkward chuckle. "That's Titus's famous costume. I had pajamas that looked like it. Put it on, and you'll take on possibly the greatest role of your life."

Joan fitted on the costume without complaint. It was identical to the mercenary disguise she obtained the day prior, minus the reek of alcohol and sex. _'Not bad at all. It's actually comfortable, too.'_ Not that she'd ever admit it out loud.

She had just finished putting the leather boots on when the ghost of an angry soldier appeared. "Titus! Thy pox-membered body shall pay for thy monstrous villainy! My son lies dead because of you! Now shall revenge be mine, cold as your corpse and all the more flavorsome for it!"

Joan gulped. "Wait, what's going on?"

"Um, try to make your demise…convincing?" Ransom suggested in an attempt to be helpful. He wasn't.

Joan rolled her eyes as the ghosts of several mercenaries approached from the flaming woods. "Thanks for the help." _'Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Now I have to die!?'_

' _You know what? I've come too far for this!'_ She wasn't going to die for this damn play. The blonde reached for her sword with an angry growl, throwing herself into battle against them. Her sword met the throat of the first mercenary and he disappeared into tiny wisps.

' _Remember, they're not actually alive,'_ she reminded, blocking a heavy hit from another. She ducked under a second angry swipe and launched herself onto his shoulders, snapping his neck with her knees.

The body vanished just like the first, and she switched for her magic. While skilled enough to use the Slow Time spell, she wasn't anywhere near as good with it as her Shock spell. _'This is a good time to test it out.'_

Focusing her magical energy, she let the green spell cloak her hand before she cast it. When she did, time slowed down to a crawl, and the blonde took the opportunity to defeat her foes the same way she managed to beat Raven.

They weren't able to so much as raise their blades before she cut them down without mercy. Dying wasn't an option. Not when she had a rebellion to lead.

She planted her boot firmly in the chest of a fallen mercenary and sank her sword through his chest as the spell wore off, and the ghost from before appeared again. This time, he was seething with anger, and his hands were clenched.

"More of my kin lie slain, and yet you live! You have breathed your last sulfur-scented breath, Titus!" he roared.

Another group of mercenaries appeared, and Joan swapped for her pistol. She wasn't used to using it as much as her sword or magic, and she needed to learn how to use a gun effectively. It could end up saving her life in the event of her sword being knocked out of her hand and magic being temporarily disabled.

Keeping her hand steady, she began to pick them off from a distance. The pistol lacked the range of the rifle currently held in the Sanctuary, but it was still effective enough at a reasonable distance. However, it was more suitable for close to mid range combat like this than the rifle.

Not to mention the longer ranged weapon was still a little bulky and cumbersome in her hands.

Two mercenaries burst into wisps before she had to reload, and she backpedaled to buy herself some extra breathing room. _'Don't let them get close. If they do, it'll a little more difficult.'_

One mercenary caught a bullet to the face and his companions leapt at her with loud roars of fury. Their spectral cutlasses gleamed with deadly promise, and Joan sidestepped to avoid being cut in half. _'So much for trying to keep them at a distance.'_

She swapped back out for her magic, casting another Slow Time spell. Time slowed down to a crawl once again and Joan took the time to charge up a more powerful Shock spell. Both of her hands glowed with electricity, and she cast it. A wave of lightning blasted out around her, destroying the mercenaries.

Joan panted for breath; that last spell had taken a lot out of her, and she was relieved when the ghost appeared again. "All my men, dead. My vengeance, denied. My world, undone! I cannot stand to live one second more!"

He drew his own sword and stabbed himself in the chest to end his life, and the crowd watching cheered enthusiastically. They stood up, applauding the performance they just saw.

Ransom Locke was pleased as well. "A magnificent performance. That's just the ending I wanted to see when I was a young boy attending the theater every week. I wonder, what scene will follow this one?"

Philipth Morley appeared, shaking his head with a chuckle. "What performance could possibly follow such a marvelous improvisation of my work? The way you brought life into those roles…I stand in awe. You are hereby rewarded with the prize no mortal has ever been awarded before, for I know you will do it justice: my missing play. I call it, 'The Ham Sandwich'. A metaphorical title, of course."

Joan took it, and she was encased in a brilliant glow. _'Oh, not this again…'_

However, she didn't find herself in some unknown dimension for once. Instead, she was back in Brightwall, with the detective beside her.

"Well," Ransom muttered, lighting his pipe once again. "I much appreciate you getting me out of there. I thought I was going to go mad."

"You're not the only one," Joan sighed.

She set off towards the academy, and Lambert and Pinch were waiting anxiously. "I see you've found our aged investigator. Happy day. Have you perchance found—"

"This is no time for perchance, Lambert!" Pinch interrupted. "The play, do you have it!?"

"I do." Joan nodded and held out the play. "Philipth Morley's lost play, 'The Ham Sandwich'." _'The more I hear that title, the more I think that Morley was indeed off his rocker. Who the hell would name a play that?'_

"We're saved, Lambert!" Pinch cheered.

"Oh, the joy in my bosom knows no bounds!" Lambert cried. "Thank you, a million times. Thank you!"

"Ha!" Pinch laughed. "He said bosom! It's already working. Comedy and tragedy will at last join hands!"

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the play was held just outside Brightwall Academy. A decently sized crowd (Joan included) had come to watch and Lambert began his lines, putting on a sorrowful expression. "Hark! Bear witness to the grey tragedy that is man! Oh, how it both dulls my senses and yet seeks to be barred."

"That reminds me of a great joke. A corpse, a chicken, and a monk walk into a bar. Except, the bartender had a mild heart attack that morning, so none of them get served!" Pinch wailed.

"And yet, what purpose does heartache serve when the infinite dark blanket of death falls softly upon our still beating corpse?" Lambert sighed.

"That reminds me of another one," Pinch replied. "A corpse walks into a bar and says, 'Can I have a lemonade?' 'Certainly,' replies the bartender. 'I've never seen a stiff drink'."

Joan rolled her eyes at the horrible pun, and she could tell from the exasperated sighs from the townsfolk who had decided to show up were also regretting their decision to watch this tragedy. _'Okay…maybe this play was better off being hidden after all. Morley did have a point.'_

Even a chicken that was passing by seemed annoyed by it.

"And so ends our happy-sad play," Lambert announced much to the relief of the spectators. "Which reminds us we are made of nothing but clay. There's only time left for our fool to say…"

"GREAT BIG GIANT BOSOMS!" Pinch yelled.

After the last line, the townsfolk began to murmur amongst themselves. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"Biggest load of old tosh I ever saw! It didn't even make sense!"

"Worst play ever. Of all time."

The crowd dispersed, muttering about how awful the play was, and Klein let out a scoff. "Well…I'm starting to see why Morley wanted this hidden."

"Yeah, me too," Joan sighed. Despite the appalling performance, Joan felt bad for the two disappointed actors. No doubt they had hoped this would be their biggest act yet, and they came up tragically short. _'At least I have their support for when the rebellion comes around. Horrible performance or not, their influence in town is still strong.'_

Still, could be worse. She could've had been getting chewed out by Port like Qrow was.

 _ **A/N: So, I decided to break this chapter up into two. The next one will have the quest for finding the escaped chickens as well as the missing child. I wanted to keep going, but I honestly felt like I was going to end up dragging this the fuck out, and I know damn well this story is going to be long as fuck anyway. That's kinda what I get for being heavy on my scenery/environments. See you!**_

 _ **Discord: C. Strife #5371**_


	6. Being a Hero

_**A/N: Hello all, chapter six is here! Hope you enjoy what I have for you here today. The word count that I have so far really surprises me a little. At my current pace, I'm looking at my second longest story ever, especially with my monster updates.**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***Being a Hero***

Qrow had been through quite a bit in his years of experience as the Guildmaster. He held the record for the quickest time to complete the Witchwood Arena, battled ice trolls and minions that plagued the snowy wilderness outside Snowspire Village, and even slaughtered the balverines that infested Knothole Island.

But by Avo, listening to Port's stern lectures was by far the worst thing he had ever experienced. His tone was just so damned dull, and Qrow had to fight to keep his eyes from closing and drifting off to sleep. _'And I thought listening to Scythe was dull.'_

Qrow pinched his arm to prevent himself from falling asleep, and he grimaced. _'That didn't really work, did it?'_ He tried to tune out the old soldier by concentrating on his surroundings instead. The room he and Port were in was painted bright yellow in contrast to the dark wood of the bookcases, and he could see the paint beginning to peel in some places.

The candles provided more than enough light for anyone who wanted to use the library for literary purposes, and he admired the gentle flicker of the small flames and the slow drip of the wax. It was strangely beautiful, and he could make out the titles of the many books that adorned the shelf to his right. _'Cold Lips, Megafowl: The Sword is Mightier Than The Hen, Norm And Aggie, Phantoms From the Beyond. Huh. Got some interesting titles. I wonder if they're any good.'_

While Port was boasting about how he and the late king once slew a hundred hobbes in an underground network of sewers beneath Bowerstone, Qrow reached to grab one of the books from the shelf.

"I wouldn't bother with any of that nonsense," Port said, having spotted him reaching for it. "Those are the works of an author by the name of Meredith Sock. He was once very popular, but is greatly considered to be rubbish."

"I've seen worse." Qrow snorted and started to flick through the pages of the one he picked out, 'Cold Lips'. What sparked his interest in it was the fact that it was an erotic work; he had quite the collection of dirty novels in his quarters in the Heroes Guild, and he groaned inwardly at the realization that all of his collected 'literature' had been burned during the Fall of the Guild. _'Damn. It'll take me years to build up that collection again.'_

As he started to read, he grimaced. Even though it was erotica, it was terribly written; as far as he could tell the story was about a beautiful maid of the wealthy Sickly household, named Eduarda. She ruthlessly slept with every family member to get what she wanted, and she rose through the ranks to become the personal aid of Lady Sickly. When Lady Sickly was found murdered, all fingers pointed to the promiscuous maid. "What the bloody hell is this rubbish?" _'Okay, I take it back. I haven't read anything this bad before.'_

"I told you, you damned fool." Port let out a loud guffaw, holding his sides. "In your hands is probably the worst erotic novel ever written. And yet, despite it being nothing more than total rubbish, the damn thing remains to be a huge hit with the maids and servants in Bowerstone Castle. For reasons that continue to elude me."

Qrow let out a groan of frustration and put the book back. Yep, he definitely should've listened to the old soldier's advice. He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk. "So, am I allowed to go now? I promise, I won't try anything funny with Joan. Hero's oath." He was sincere about not trying to seduce the blonde princess, for now at least.

"There's one thing I still don't understand," Port said. "How exactly did you become the Guildmaster? Wasn't Briar Rose next in line to succeed him? Or Thunder?"

Qrow shook his head. "Both of them turned it down. Thunder was far too boastful for his own good; he'd end up parading his status for everyone and their mother to see. Briar didn't want it, mainly because no one would take her seriously. She had a habit of being incredibly annoying to deal with. So, they elected me. I had more experience, more rounded skills, and I get results when it comes to questing. The only one who had a success rate close to me was Jaune."

He wasn't lying; when it came to completing quests throughout Albion, Qrow was the best of the best. He would get better results days before other Heroes completed their own. He was renowned for not only his swordsmanship, but also his remarkable magic. Despite not being a true Will user like Maze or Weaver, he was more than capable of handling himself in a magical bout with his Multi-Strike spell and summoning.

"So, they instead appoint a perverted drunk who probably spent more time in the pub than in the guild?" Port let out a scoff. "Forgive me if I sound rude, but that sounds bloody ridiculous. I'd rather have a hobbe in charge."

"I said the same thing at first." Qrow shrugged and took a swig from his flask, enjoying the familiar burn of the whiskey pouring down his throat. "But hey, the position had its perks. Got to raid Maze's personal liquor stash with Jaune." _'And bed my fair share of women.'_

He purposely left out the details of his many sexual exploits when he told Port who he was; the old soldier was already wary of him as it was. If Qrow started to tell him his glory stories, he was sure that Port would chase him throughout the kingdom and beat him to death with a hammer.

Port scowled and folded his arms. "I won't waste any more of your time. However, do take this into consideration; I will be keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't try anything funny with Joan. She's a good woman; she doesn't need to deal with your perverted nonsense on top of leading a rebellion."

"Don't worry." Qrow held out his palms. "My hands are clean. I promise I won't start anything." _'I won't actively try to get into her pants. But if she decides to come onto me, I sure as hell wouldn't complain. She's a real cute girl. Hah, I can see Jaune now giving me the finger for trying to bed his own descendant.'_ That or he was calling him a despicable dirty old pervert. Qrow was leaning towards the latter.

"See to it." Port narrowed his eyes and aimed his pistol at him threateningly. "Otherwise my friend here is going to have some words with a certain part of your anatomy."

"Do I get any points for guessing correctly?" Qrow asked sarcastically. He used his guile ability to see if the old man was actually telling the truth or just bluffing, but he wasn't able to see anything. It was as if he was still deciding what he would do in the event of it happening. If Qrow was dumb enough to attempt it. _'Damn. Not a thing. Makes me wonder now.'_

He wouldn't take advantage of the girl, even if she was incredibly drunk and begging for him to utterly ravage her. Joan was a good person; she didn't deserve to know the pain of having a drunken one night stand as young as she was. _'Don't do anything stupid with her. She's not Winter and never will be. Don't use her as some sort of replacement.'_

Qrow sighed and stood up, sliding his hands into his pockets as he left Port to drink his beer in peace. Winter had been his first love, back before he was appointed as Guildmaster. When they first met, the two could hardly stand being in the same room together. Qrow was born and raised in the quiet farm village of Oakvale, whereas Winter was of noble descent and lived in Bowerstone North as a child. Qrow lived a much more humble life at first, spending his days helping in the fields or carrying crates that came in off the boats.

Winter, on the other hand, barely set foot outside her family's mansion before she unlocked her Heroic powers. When the two met after being found by Maze, they had it out for each other immediately. Qrow hated her superiority complex, and Winter saw him as nothing but a dirty farm boy. Not an equal to her.

They actually ended up having a few fights across the guild, causing enough destruction for Weaver to finally step in and smack their heads together. He ordered them to complete a bunch of missions together, and during those missions, they found a grudging respect for the other. For her pampered lifestyle, Winter was pretty handy with a sword, and for his humble upbringing Qrow had a good mind for strategy.

Eventually, the barriers of dislike started to whittle away, turning to a respected partnership, then friendship, and then love. Their first night as a couple they kept half the damned guild awake with the sounds of frenzied and passionate love making. Weaver and Maze weren't impressed with their stunt, while the rest of the Heroes either chuckled in victory or grumbled in annoyance about a bet they all made in regards to how long it would take them to finally sleep with each other. Finally, everything seemed to be going well for the two. They had found happiness in the polar opposite.

Then a quest that should've been simple went terribly awry.

The Chieftain of Knothole Glade sent out a request to the Heroes Guild to deal with a balverine infestation in the Witchwood Forest; the damn beasts were attacking traders on their way to the settlement and preventing supplies from making it to the village. Naturally, the Guild responded by sending out two of their most capable fighters who had experience fighting the beasts and were possibly the best for the job.

However, they underestimated just how bad the infestation of the large wolf-like monsters was. And that mistake proved to be fatal for one of them.

Qrow was fighting off as many as he could, but he had been forced onto the defensive and was slowly running out of his Will energy, making him unable to cast his spells. Winter had engaged in combat with the pack leader, a vicious white balverine twice the size of its normal black brethren. Even with her skill and training, she was overpowered by the beast's raw power and killed by it.

Overcome with grief and anger, Qrow flew into a rage, swinging his greatsword until his bones broke and fell unconscious from blood loss. When he came to, he was lying in a puddle of his own blood surrounded by the mutilated corpses of the balverines he slew and the pain from both his arms being broken nearly made him pass out again. He never cried like he did that night, holding Winter's body against his while the heavy rains poured down as if to mourn the loss with him.

After that event, Qrow tried many ways to deal with his grief. He tried fighting. He tried reading. He even tried his hand at crafting weapons and armor. But his sorrow continued to linger over him and as if it were decided by the gods, it led him to drink. In his intoxicated state, he didn't have to feel the pain anymore. Eventually, it became more of a routine for him to get drunk and perform his duties in an impaired state. He didn't care, as long as he didn't have to feel the grief anymore.

Even when he was appointed as Guildmaster after Weaver's death, his bad habits only worsened. Instead of only getting to the point where the guards had to drag him out of the pub, he had taken to sleeping with as many wenches as his heart desired, not caring about their feelings the next day when he left. It didn't matter; no one was able to replace Winter.

And eventually, it led to his most recent predicament that he was just freed from. During another one of his drunken midnight strolls, he accidentally wandered into the Greatwood forests just south of Bowerstone and mistook a succubus nymph for a lonely prostitute. He slept with the small fairy-like creature ruthlessly, pounding himself deep into it with drunken yells that echoed loudly. The little bastard, infuriated with him for finishing inside of it, then cursed him to be a gnome for all eternity.

Looking back on that, Qrow was really slapping himself for it. _'I can't believe I allowed myself to fall that damn far. I know I had issues dealing with my depression, but that was just ridiculous. Scythe wouldn't even be angry with me; he'd be disappointed. Somehow, that's worse than him yelling at me.'_

He felt in the back pocket of his pants, and there was his flask, still the bright silver color it was since the day he bought the cursed thing. He let out a sigh, his grip on it tightening, and he walked out of the academy. _'…I have to do this. Not just for myself, but for Winter, too. She wouldn't want me to be like this. She'd want me to move on.'_

' _Winter…I'll never forget you. You were the first love of my life. But we both know that me being like this isn't good for me or you.'_ He unscrewed the cap of the flask and poured its contents onto the ground. Alcohol spilled out from it like a lazy brown river of guilt and sin, splashing on the smooth stone and snaking between the cracks. _'First step of moving on, I guess.'_

The last few drops of alcohol left it, and he chucked the empty flask into the nearest bin. _'Time to act like a Hero, Qrow.'_

He rubbed his exposed arms as the mountain winds howled down from the peaks, eyes squinted as he tried to find Joan. The blonde princess was seemingly nowhere to be seen, and the Hero rolled his eyes as he began to make his way through town to search for her. "Dammit, where the hell could you have run off to now?" _'She couldn't have gotten too far. She has to be in town somewhere. Curse these runaway princesses.'_

He walked under the small stone bridge that connected the back of the stores to a small plateau, and he could hear a couple having quite the shouting match in one of the houses. He chuckled as he heard something about the husband having an affair with a 'busty blonde harlot named Lucy'. _'Well…at least he has decent taste. His wife seems like the kind of person who finds gardening to be an adventure.'_

He eventually spotted Joan by the food market looking at an apple pie, and he shook his head before running over to her. "There you are. Where the hell have you been? I was looking all over town for you."

To his surprise, Joan didn't come back with a snappy retort. Instead, she sighed and rubbed her head. "Do you want the long version or the short version? Because it's kind of difficult to explain."

"Eh, I could use a good story to brighten up the day." Qrow shrugged and put his hands behind his back, eyebrow raised in curiosity. "I'll take the long version."

"Well, I was asked by two actors in town to find a lost play," Joan explained. "They said it was supposed to be somewhere in Brightwall Academy. I thought it would be simple and easy. Turns out I was horribly mistaken. To be honest, I probably should've seen it coming after they said they commissioned a detective to find it and he never returned. That ought to have been the first clue." Qrow chuckled at that.

"Sounds like you had more than a simple fetch request, princess." He grinned at her and motioned for her to continue. "Go on. I'm all ears now."

"Well, I found the damn thing. The second clue that I should've paid attention to was the fact that a book was hovering in midair by magic," Joan continued dryly, bringing a laugh out of him.

"Wow, you really aren't that observant, are you?" He laughed, clutching his sides and handing the stall owner some gold in exchange for the pie; he didn't realize it until just now, but he was quite hungry from having not eaten anything since breakfast earlier, and it was the middle of the day now.

"I'm glad you find this funny," the blonde grumbled irritably. "I didn't find it the least bit amusing."

"Blondie, you have to learn to laugh at yourself." Qrow took a bit of the pie he purchased, smacking his lips loudly to purposely annoy her even more; it was funny seeing her get riled up over the littlest of things. "Only then can you actually have a decent sense of humor."

"Haha. I'm so amused, I might die." Joan rolled her eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh. "Like I was saying, I found the book they were looking for. Unfortunately, the ghost of the playwright who wrote it dragged me into the book. Literally. It was there that I met the detective who the two actors commissioned, and he helped me get out of it."

"How did you get out?" Qrow asked, handing her a slice of pie.

"I acted my way out. I wish I was being metaphorical about it," Joan replied, taking a bite and swallowing. She noticed Qrow staring at her after a few seconds, and she let out a sigh. "What?"

"Who was the playwright, exactly?" he asked.

"Philipth Morley," Joan answered. "One of the very best in Albion's history. After I acted out some of his roles he set up to test me, he decided I was worthy enough to be rewarded with the missing play and set me free. Once I was out, I gave it to the two who asked me to find it in the first place, Lambert and Pinch. They performed it, and well…there was probably a reason why Morley had it hidden in the first place."

"That bad, huh?" Qrow chuckled. _'Ah, the dreaded first quest. I remember mine like it was yesterday. Good times.'_

"You have no idea," Joan said with a sigh. "Even a chicken that seemed to have a moderate understanding of the human language thought it was rubbish. I can't help but feel bad though. I feel as though I damaged their reputation instead of helping it."

The older Hero put a calloused hand on her shoulder in an attempt to reassure her. "Hey, don't beat yourself up about it. Sometimes that's what happens. No point in sulking about it. Think about it this way; you now have the support of two people with significance in town. Those are two big supporters for your own goal. Not to mention word will spread around town quickly about you being a reliable person when it comes to finding things that aren't easy to get. You'll build up a reputation for being dependable, and that'll make them want to follow you."

Joan brightened up a little; her slight guilt at the results was replaced by a firm determination, and she nodded. "Right. What do you suggest we do next?"

"Well…seeing as it'll take a day or two before these gossip lovers spread your name for everyone to hear, why don't we get a little sparring practice in?" Qrow suggested. "There's no such thing as having too much practice, Blondie."

"Think you can handle me, old man? Or are you rusty in your ancient age?" The blonde smirked, and Qrow had to hide his own. The poor girl had no idea what she was dealing with. She effectively just poked the kraken with the little jab about his age.

"Oh, I'll show you what this old man is capable of," Qrow promised. "Now, let's go somewhere more secluded. We don't want the townsfolk to start screaming in terror once we get going." _'Sorry, kid. But I'm not going easy on you at all. You want to poke the kraken? You'll get the kraken.'_

Qrow led her past the bar and up towards what appeared to be a Demon Door. He stopped in his tracks and frowned. Demon Doors were great men of ages past, from the time of the Old Kingdom. Once wise and powerful wizards, they were reincarnated into these magical doors were gateways to other dimensions. Other planes of reality. Qrow had opened a few of them before, back when he walked Albion almost five hundred years ago.

They were only opened by Heroes who managed to fulfill their requirements, whether it be by solving a riddle or completing a spectacular feat.

Qrow approached the door and when it came alive, Joan let out a squeak of surprise. "W-what!? What the hell is that thing!?"

"It's a Demon Door." Qrow laughed at her reaction, giving her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry; it's completely harmless."

Joan looked at him skeptically, but once she saw he wasn't messing with her, the blonde eased up. "Well, what is it for?"

"Demon Doors are known to reward Heroes who fulfill their requirements," Qrow explained, feeling a rush of pride in being a mentor; it reminded him of teaching the young Heroes back in the Guild. "Usually, you have to solve some kind or riddle or perform a task to open them. It might be a little tricky depending on the door, but they are always consistent about rewarding you handsomely for the hard work, whether it be a weapon, gold, or even an entire house or ways to help develop your skills more. They're really useful; one gave me the ability to use a spell called Multi-Strike."

"Multi-Strike? What does that do?" Joan asked curiously.

"Exactly what you think, Blondie." Qrow smirked. "When it becomes active, each swing of my sword does the same amount of damage as four hits. I haven't had to use it in a long time, but when I do, I guarantee you I can beat just about anything with it. Not even trolls can withstand that much punishment."

He pulled out his sword and spun it in his hands before resting it against his shoulder, approaching the door. "Hey, are you alive?" _'Please don't let it be Scythe…I really don't want to deal with him right now.'_

The Demon Door blinked its eyes open, yawning, and it glared down at the older Hero. _"Not another one of you corrupt fools trying to pry me open to hoard my reward for your own benefit. Don't you have anything better to do than bring rain and sorrow to an already grey existence? Isn't there anyone in this world who is pure, and happy?"_

"To be fair, have you seen the state of this place? This isn't some magical island paradise with palm trees and beautiful women drinking coconut cocktails." Qrow motioned to the village around them. "It's kinda sleepy and dull." He was relieved that the Demon Door wasn't Scythe, but it also worried him a little; it meant the old bastard was still alive.

" _I don't want to talk to you anymore!"_ the door wailed in despair, glowering at the two Heroes. _"I only want to see someone who is pure and happy, no matter how small or young they may be! Unless you have someone with you who fulfills those requirements, go away and find another piece of sentient rock to bother!"_

The Demon Door's face shrunk back into the stone from where it came, and Joan let out a sigh. "Well…that could've gone a little better. What do you suppose he meant?"

"Dunno." Qrow shrugged, pretending not to have an idea. He could only think of one kind of person who was pure and innocent in this day and age, who didn't know about the horrible corruption and greed that plagued the world like a disease. However, he didn't say it; he wanted the blonde to work out the riddle for herself. _'I have a feeling I know it. But I'm not going to tell her. She needs to work it out for herself.'_

Joan frowned, but the blonde princess shrugged her shoulders after a few minutes and gave up. "Damn, I can't think of anything right now. How about we train like you suggested? Maybe that'll help clear my head and let me think of the answer."

"I like the way you think, Blondie." Qrow grinned at her and readied his sword. "Get ready; I won't go easy on you."

"Hah. I doubt you'd be able to keep up with me anyway, old man," the princess replied teasingly, sticking out a small pink tongue.

Qrow smirked. "Keep talking, Blondie. You'll only end up on your backside easier." Without warning he leapt towards her, and the blonde just barely got her own sword in the way to block the sudden strike. However, Qrow used his momentum and took her legs out from under her, sending her to the ground. "Round one goes to me."

"H-hey! I wasn't ready!" she protested, wiping a bit of dirt off of her and getting back onto her feet. "You cheated!"

"I told you. I don't play fair." He grinned lazily at her again and flipped his sword in the air, catching it effortlessly. "Round two?"

Joan grumbled in annoyance and leapt at him. Her longsword met his heavier blade with a loud clang, the two pieces of sharpened metal colliding. Qrow shifted his weight onto his back leg a little, and he grunted as he exerted more force to push the blonde back. Again, she lost her balance, and again Qrow sent her onto her back with another low sweeping strike.

"Oh, come on!" she groaned.

"Less complaining, more swinging your sword," Qrow ordered, sticking his tongue out back at her. "What was that about me being an old man again?"

Joan growled in frustration and charged him again. Her sword swung in graceful arcs, and yet Qrow simply ducked and dodged every single one of them without even breaking a sweat. He did one spectacular dodge by flipping over her, and before the princess could react he had shoved her facefirst into the ground with a lazy push.

Joan spat out a mouthful of dirt, and again, she rushed in. Again, she landed on her rear end. The cycle continued for two hours; Joan would try and hit him with everything she had, and Qrow would lazily dodge them without using most of his energy.

Eventually, Joan was worn out and more than a little frustrated with him. But that was his goal. To make her see that she couldn't rush into battle like she did with hollow men or rely too much on her powers to save her like it did against Raven.

She had to use her brain in battle. It would serve her as well as a blade, spell, or a gun.

"What are you trying to do, get me more and more annoyed with you?" She glowered at him, her blue eyes hot with anger as she gasped for breath. "Because if that's your goal, it's really working right now."

"No." Qrow shook his head and walked over to her, resting his sword against his shoulder. "Do you realize what you did every time you went up against me?"

She didn't answer him and continued to glare, and Qrow sighed before explaining. "You know I'm bigger, stronger, and capable of using magic. So, why did you continue to leap in without thinking of a strategy first?"

"I thought beating the stuffing out of an enemy before it laid a hit on me _was_ a strategy," Joan grumbled.

Qrow snorted in laughter. "Yep, you're definitely Jaune's descendant. His strategy was the exact same thing, you know. Except for him, it worked with his fighting style. He used heavy greatswords like me, so he could dish out a ton of damage in one hit, and he was incredibly durable; kid took hits like you wouldn't believe. But you don't use heavy weapons, nor do you have a ton of endurance yet. So again, why do you continue to try and fight like you do?"

Joan processed his words, and she hung her head dejectedly. "I don't know. I just…I always dreamt of being a Hero, like him. Ever since I was a little girl I was fascinated of being just like the Heroes of old in the books. I guess I'm just trying to follow in his legacy."

Qrow crouched down to talk to her eye to eye. "Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to follow in Jaune's footsteps. He did many great things that you wouldn't believe. But you're not him. You are Joan, the princess of Albion. Don't try and be someone you're not. Be yourself. Fight like the way that's suited for you, not anyone else. Now, come on; one more round before we call it a night."

Joan took his hand and he hauled her up. The two got on opposite ends of the clearing, and Qrow readied himself. "Ready?"

Joan nodded.

"Good. Begin."

Joan circled around him, her sword held at her waist. Qrow struck first, and Joan countered with a strong parry. Qrow grunted and went for a heavy downward swing, and the blonde rolled to the side to evade. Her sword was onto him, and the older Hero yanked his own blade free to block the strike.

"Not bad! You're using your head!" Qrow grunted in approval.

He pushed back and this time instead of trying to resist a much stronger opponent than herself, Joan allowed herself to slide back. She used the momentum to her advantage, sliding her sword down his and catching underneath the handle. She yanked up, and Qrow's greatsword flew out of his hands and landed behind him in the dirt with a loud thunk.

The older Hero looked at his blade sticking up, embedded in the dirt, and he gave Joan a nod of approval, a small smile on his face. "Good job, kiddo. You did well." He went and retrieved his blade, sliding it into the holster on his body, and clasped a hand on her shoulder as she caught her breath. "What do you say we get something to eat now?"

Joan nodded; her clothes were dirty and sweaty, a sign that he had pushed her, and she sheathed her own sword. "Definitely. I need a good meal after that. And…thanks, Qrow."

"No problem." Qrow chuckled and led her into the pub; a loud chorus of incoherent drunken singing could be heard from within, and the blonde raised an eyebrow as they entered.

"Sounds like someone's having quite the birthday," she muttered. "Wonder if I got an invitation."

"We aren't that lucky." Qrow snorted and took a seat at one of the few unoccupied tables, Joan sitting across from him. "Hopefully something nice and warm will help drive away the cold. I know it's bothering you."

"You can tell that?" Joan rubbed her arms. "I wasn't even shivering."

"True," he admitted. "However, I can tell it all by your body movement. You were trying to hide your hands when we first started sparring together. You stopped caring as it went on, but it was still obvious."

Joan let out a disgruntled noise, and after a few minutes a barmaid came over to them with a tray in her hand. "Is there anything I can get for you two tonight?"

"Well, we're retiring for the night after a busy day," Qrow answered, giving her a charming smile. "What's ready to eat?"

"Well, we have a fresh venison stew, and a goat roast," she replied cheerfully.

"I'll take the stew," Joan replied.

"The roast for me," added Qrow. "And a bottle of banana juice, if you have any."

Joan looked at him in surprise as the barmaid walked away to talk to the chef, eyes wide. "You're not getting some kind of alcohol? Who the hell are you and what have you done with Qrow?"

"I'm not drinking that crap anymore," the older Hero said evenly. "I'm giving it up."

"What in the name of Avo brought this sudden change?" the blonde asked, sniffing longingly as their food for the evening arrived. "Mmm…"

"Well, a few things," Qrow said, picking up his silverware and digging in. "Mostly, it's to better myself. I'll tell you the whole story another time. You have enough to worry about without hearing my sob story."

Joan opened her mouth to protest, and a little bit of stew fell out from her lips. She wiped it up, her cheeks pink in embarrassment, and Qrow chuckled at her slight misfortune. "That's what you get, princess. Now eat up; otherwise I'll finish it."

"Oh, it is on now," the princess growled in a teasing manner. She began shoveling down her meal like famished wolf tears into a rabbit, and the older Hero could only shake his head and laugh. _'Damn, you really are something else, kiddo.'_

' _And it's fun to watch.'_

* * *

The next morning, Joan was up bright and early. The sun had only just started creeping over the horizon to penetrate the inky indigo sky, and she sat up in her bed with a loud yawn, stretching her arms high above her head. Her body was still sore from the sparring her and Qrow did yesterday, but the small bruises were already starting to fade to a slight yellow.

She looked around for the black-haired man, only to find that he had already left. Instead, he had left a hastily scribbled note on the table underneath his empty bottle of juice from yesterday.

The blonde let out another yawn and got out of bed, rubbing her eyes and walking over to the wooden table. She picked up the note and read it to herself.

 _Blondie, I got word about another escaped criminal from one of the guards. I went out to deal with the problem. Don't worry about coming after me to help; I have it under control._

 _Cheers, Qrow._

Joan crumpled it into a tiny ball and threw it into the bin. "He could've woke me up. It's not like I would complain about delivering some proper justice…" _'Why didn't he wake me once he heard about the bounty? Did he want me to sleep longer?'_

Sometimes, she really didn't understand that man.

"Klein, are you aware of anything happening in the village?" she asked, pulling on her royal skirt and shirt. It didn't seem to be as cold as it was yesterday, so she should be more than comfortable in her royal attire. Unless she decided to take a nice leisurely stroll through the mountains.

"I'm afraid not at the moment," Klein replied apologetically. "It's only dawn; problems in the village aren't likely to arise for at least another few hours, and your new traveling companion is already taking care of the issue regarding the jail. I swear, the lack of competence the guards here suffer from makes me wonder how the bloody hell they even made it into the damned army. Logan would be ashamed of them if something like this happened in the capital."

"They probably wanted to fight off trolls or hobbes, and instead got stuck with guard duty." Joan laughed and headed on downstairs with her pistol and sword secured to her belt. "Or maybe they were once mercenaries and adventurers until they took an arrow in the knee or something."

"That doesn't excuse these damned jailbreaks," Klein returned dryly; it was way too easy for Joan to see him wiggling his mustache in disapproval. "Either the guards aren't doing their bloody job, or the criminals are getting smarter."

"Somehow, I find the latter to be really unlikely," the blonde muttered quietly, not wanting any unwanted attention; talking to seemingly only herself wouldn't exactly help her reputation. Someone would probably attempt to lock her up for being insane.

A drunken old man gave her a leer as she passed, whistling as he saw her exposed legs. "Hey there, gorgeous. How about you spend some time with a real man? Come on; I'll buy you a drink."

"She isn't interested," a familiar voice snarled. Joan turned around and had never been happier for Qrow to be around. He was standing at the entrance to the bar, resting his greatsword against his shoulder. Blood trickled down from the sharp steel, and a small cut was on his cheek. "Now, push off before you have a nice little talk with my sword here. I'm sure she's dying to have a meeting with a certain part of your anatomy."

"I'd really not think about that…" Joan pretended to cover her ears and walked over to Qrow's side. "What in the name of Avo happened to you?"

"This? Eh, bastard tried fighting back with some rusty piece of garbage." Qrow waved her off with a snort, wiping the cut with his finger. "You should've seen how badly damaged his sword was. Only the most pathetic of pirates or one who spent a lifetime at the bottom of the ocean would be seen using such a horrible sword."

"You should be more careful," Joan scolded. "And wake me up next time you decide to go out on a bounty hunting job; someone needs to watch your back to make sure you don't do anything incredibly stupid."

"Don't worry about me, princess. It's just a little scratch," he said dismissively. "It'll heal. Now, are you ready? We still have a lot of work to do."

"Yeah, I know. I'm coming." Joan rolled her eyes and followed him outside. The gentle warm rays of the sun shone brightly on them, and Qrow finished wiping the blood off of his greatsword with an irritated mumble. He seemed to be the kind of person who cared more about his weapon's appearance than his own.

The blonde really didn't understand that kind of mentality. In her eyes it seemed idiotic to value a material possession above one's own life. She wanted to tell him what she thought, but instead decided against it and kept her mouth shut. She didn't know a lot about him and for all she knew his sword could be a family heirloom or something.

A loud shriek of horror pierced the sky, and Qrow immediately had his sword out. "That came from across the bridge! This way!"

He broke into a run and Joan sprinted after him, going across Brightwall Bridge and over towards the lone house by the cliffside. A young woman with long brown tresses was searching in the bushes, calling out a name frantically. "Eve? Eve! Where are you!?"

"What's going on?" Joan asked, approaching her. "Who's Eve?"

The woman stood up, wincing. Her hands were covered in tiny scratches from looking in the rose bushes, blood welling up from them. "Eve is my daughter. I went to make her breakfast, but when I looked around she wasn't in the house! She just ran off!"

"Do you have any idea where she could've gone?" the blonde pressed. "Any place she liked specifically?"

The woman nodded, wiping her hands on her long blue dress. "I-I think so. She always wanted to explore the Chillbreath Caverns in the north of Mistpeak just outside the village, ever since her father brought back treasure from one of the caves. She's too young to go off adventuring! She'll get hurt!"

Joan shared a glance with Qrow, and he nodded. She then faced the woman and gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. If she's there, we'll find her."

"Thank you!" the woman cried. "Please, bring her back safe and sound as soon as you can!"

"We will," Joan promised. "Qrow, let's go."

"You got it." Qrow slid his sword into its holster and followed her up the winding path into Mistpeak.

The walk through the lush forest would've been nice and peaceful if they weren't in such a hurry. Joan's heart thumped painfully against her chest at the thought of something or someone else finding the poor child first and either kidnapping her or killing her. _'I hope we're not too late. No one deserves to feel the pain of losing a child.'_

"Worried?" Qrow asked, setting a brisk pace that would allow them to move quickly without exhausting themselves.

Joan nodded, and she ran a hand through her hair. "Yes. I'm afraid that something else is going to find her first and the only thing we're going to find is a dead body. I don't want to drive a parent into a pit of endless misery by bringing them the corpse of their child."

"You worry too much, Blondie," Qrow said with a snort. "The kid only recently went missing. If anything, we'll be the first to find her instead of some creep or a pack of hobbes."

"I really hope you're right," Joan sighed.

After walking through the forest surrounding Brightwall, the blonde looked around to see if they could see any footprints in the snow that would give them clues as to where the girl had gone.

Joan spotted one pair of prints leading away from the village and up the mountain in front of the village. "There. They lead up towards that mountain ahead. Looks like no one else followed her."

The wind began to whistle down the peaks as they started to climb. Snow started to fall on them, the flurries dusting their clothes. Joan shivered and rubbed her arms. She really should've bought a cloak at the clothing store in town a few days ago. _'Dammit. I should've bought one; I'm in a village in the middle of the damn mountains. Worrying about leading a rebellion is making me forget to do little things.'_

"When we get back, you should buy something warmer," Qrow said from up ahead as if he could read her mind. "We're in the mountains; dressing like that won't do you any favors."

"Gee, thanks," Joan muttered. "In the meantime I should just deal with it?"

"Eh, it's not as bad as the day I carried you from Raven's mercenary camp," Qrow replied with a scoff. "How spoiled were you in the castle? It's like you never went outside in the cold."

"Well, I didn't," Joan admitted, blushing a little. "My brother insisted on keeping me in the castle where he could keep an eye on me. After our father died, he became really protective of me."

"Can't blame him for that," Qrow conceded with a shrug. "But he changed, didn't he?"

"Yes." Joan nodded sadly. "It was about four years ago. He always ruled with a strong but fair hand. After he came back from one of his expeditions, he…was different. Even though he was still the same brother who would willingly spend time with me, he was changing. He had this paranoid look in his eyes, and his policies became harsher and harsher until eventually, he forced me to choose between my girlfriend Yang and a group of protesters. I…I wasn't able to make that choice. I didn't have the strength to."

Qrow blinked, and he rubbed her shoulder. "He had them all executed, didn't he?"

Joan nodded, wiping her eyes and trying to prevent herself from crying. "Yes…"

Qrow sighed and put an arm around her as they continued to trudge up the mountain path. "Sorry for your loss. No one deserves to be forced to make that choice, knowing that no matter what someone is going to pay the price with their life."

Joan didn't say a word as they climbed. It was all too fresh in her memory, too vivid. _'Yang…I'm sorry. I was too weak to stand up to him, and it cost you your life. I'm so, so, sorry. I should've done more, and I didn't. I hope you can forgive me.'_

They eventually reached the cavern, and inside was it was dark and cold. An icy wind blew from within, chilling the very bone, and Joan slowly made her way through as the howls of wolves echoed through the cave. "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah." Qrow nodded and readied his weapon. "Sounds like packs of wolves are around. Tread lightly; I don't want to carry you on my back as well as a little girl."

"What, are you afraid of your back giving out on you, old man?" Joan asked teasingly. "Don't tell me your joints are bothering you now."

"Haha. Very funny," the older Hero drawled sarcastically. "No, it's because I don't want to deal with you complaining about it later on."

"Hey!" Joan protested, storming off ahead of him. "I don't complain about anything! I put up with you, don't I?"

"For now." Qrow grinned. "I bet I can drive you up a wall if I really put my mind to it."

"Please don't…" the blonde murmured with a sigh. "I have enough rubbish to deal with without you driving me to points of insanity." She glanced around the caves they were in, and immediately she had a new place to dislike.

The Chillbreath Caverns were true to their name; it was cold and windy, with the only signs of plant life being the unusual pale grey toxic mushrooms that sprouted out from the cold earth. She could hear the dripping water from the stalactites above them, and she wiped a droplet off of her arm.

"This…is probably the worst place I've ever been," she said, seeing her breaths in front of her.

"Eh, I've had worse." Qrow shrugged, wiping a small dusting of snow from his coat. "Be thankful you didn't have to deal with Darkwood; the place is a giant marshy nightmare filled with all sort of horrible creatures that would love to make you their dinner."

"Something tells me you tried to once build a summer home there," Joan muttered dryly.

A fearful scream echoed from up ahead, and Joan's eyes widened. "it's her!" She broke into a run, stumbling as she tripped on a pile of bones that still had flesh clinging onto them, and she got back up in a hurry. "She's here!"

She ran ahead until she found the missing girl. She couldn't have been older than seven years old, and she looked up at them tearfully. "Help me, please! There's so many of them, and they're so scary! Please take me back to Mummy!"

"It's all right," Joan said soothingly, holding her hand tightly as a pack of wolves howled from somewhere in the cave. "We'll get you home. Don't you worry about it."

"Hey, Blondie! We've got company!" Qrow yelled. Joan turned around and saw a pack of wolves stalking towards them. Blood from their most recent kill dribbled from their powerful jaws, and they licked their muzzles hungrily. These wolves weren't like the ones outside the cavern; they were scrawny and starving, and that made them all the more dangerous. They would be desperate enough to attack even people if it meant they could eat.

"Qrow, take the girl!" she ordered, reaching for her pistol and aiming it. "I'll clear us a path through!"

She fired at the pack leader, her bullet striking it right between the eyes. The creature fell, blood trickling through its matted black fur, and its pack members looked around uneasily; with their leader gone, they didn't have something to make decisions for them.

That hesitation cost them dearly.

Joan fired her pistol at the wolves and they dropped like flies.

With the wolves dead, Joan spun her pistol on her finger before sliding it into her holster, turning around when she heard clapping from Qrow. "What?"

"Well, nice of you to put on a show for us." He grinned and started to follow her with the little girl Eve holding onto his hand. "Let us know if any more of those nasty little buggers are around; we don't want any more surprises."

"Got it." Joan ran ahead to scout, and she was glad she did; right around the next bend was another pair of wolves. She quickly reloaded her pistol and fired two shots, both bullets hitting her targets in the body. They fell in puddles of blood, and the little girl let out squeaks of terror at the sight.

Joan cursed herself and looked back at Qrow. "Keep her eyes hidden if possible; I don't want her scarred for life." _'Poor girl doesn't need to see this kind of stuff. She's too young and innocent to see bloodshed.'_

Qrow nodded and used his body to shield Eve's eyes away from the bloodshed as they traveled through the cave, the older Hero purposely making sure she didn't see any of the bullet-hole ridden corpses that littered on the ground.

Joan lowered her pistol, blowing on the smoking barrel. The wolves that inhabited the cave lied dead around her, and she motioned for them to follow. "Come on; we're all clear now."

"About damned time," Qrow muttered, escorting Eve out of the cave. "I'm not really good at babysitting."

"Yeah, I kinda picked up on that," the blonde returned dryly. "Something tells me you'd make a horrible father."

"Hey, I take offense to that." Qrow let out a mock gasp, pretending to be hurt. "I managed to guide Jaune fairly well when he was younger. I even helped him get himself quite the exotic beauty of a wife."

"And was he still in his teens?" Joan asked pointedly. "Or was he a full grown adult by then?"

"He was nineteen when he beat Jack of Blades the first time and married Emerald. He left the Guild when he was fifteen. And who do you think provided him the advice to make the lady swoon over him?"

"…you might have a point," Joan grudgingly admitted. "But all that proves is that you know how to flirt with the fairer sex. It doesn't mean you're actually good when it comes to raising children that you birthed."

"Never got the chance," Qrow murmured sadly. The blonde could see a distant look of pain flash in his pale red eyes, and she felt a pang of guilt for bringing up a sensitive topic.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Don't be." He shook his head and sighed. "It happened in the past. Does it still hurt? Yes. But it was nearly five hundred years ago. I can't let it bother me for an eternity."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Joan asked quietly.

Qrow shook his head. "Not right now. I'll tell you eventually. But now isn't the time. Not when we have a child to bring home to her mother." He gestured to Eve, who was more than happy to be out of that freezing cave and trying to catch snowflakes as they fell down.

Joan nodded. "You're right. But I do want you to tell me what happened back then. All of it."

"I will," he promised.

The short one hour journey to Brightwall was largely uneventful; the only thing that happened was a pack of wolves trying to attack Joan for encroaching on their territory, and the blonde princess put them down with ruthless efficiency before they could get within five meters of her.

When they arrived back in Brightwall, Eve's mother was anxiously awaiting them, and the little girl broke into a run. "There's my mum! Mummy!"

Joan watched as her mother wiped away tears of joy and picked her daughter up, giving her a tight hug. "My little darling, I was beside myself! Thank Avo you're alright!"

She looked at the two Heroes gratefully, holding Eve close to her. "I can't thank you two enough. I'm forever in your debt. Please, if there's anything I can do, don't hesitate to ask."

"I'll keep that mind," Joan replied quickly, not giving Qrow the chance to open his mouth; knowing him he'd probably say something incredibly lewd, and the princess was not going to let that ruin what was a very touching moment.

The mother and daughter headed back home, and Qrow folded his arms behind his head with a whistle. "Well, we helped rescue a little girl and brought her back to her mother. This really couldn't have gone any better. So, how does it feel to be a real Hero now?"

"Well…" Joan watched as the family went into their house by the cliffside, and she smiled.

"It's a very nice feeling. I could get used to this, knowing I'm making a difference."

 _ **A/N: Annnnd that's it for chapter 6! This story is really getting long as shit, and we're still only in the beginning arc XD. Next up, finding chickens throughout town proves to be humorous for Qrow, and makes Joan groan in frustration XD. See you again soon!**_


	7. Chicken Chaser

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter seven! In this chapter, we'll see poor Joan dress up as a chicken again, much to her annoyance and Qrow's amusement XD. That monster chapter last time took a lot out of me, and I needed the few extra days off from it. Can't believe this story is already this fuckin' long!**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***Chicken Chaser***

Joan found out something she really enjoyed after her most recent quest of rescuing the little girl Eve from the icy caverns of Mistpeak. It wasn't the fame or the money the woman insisted on throwing her way despite Joan's protests. It certainly wasn't getting a good look at the woman's assets highlighted by her long blue dress, regardless of what Qrow tried to say.

No, it was hope. The people of Albion had lived through years of dread, not knowing if they would ever again be ruled by one as kind and fiercely protective as the previous King Sparrow, Joan's father. They didn't know if they would once again have a Hero to protect them from the many threats that stalked the lands. The people were in fear of regressing into the dark days of one hundred seventy years ago, when the horrifying man known as the Count ruled over Bowerstone with a cruel grasp.

But now they did. Sparrow's own daughter inherited the gifts of his blood that Logan did not. They now had someone to believe in. Albion had a Hero once again.

Well, two Heroes. Joan wasn't able to forget about the dusty old man who was starting to grow on her a little as her quest carried on. Sure, Qrow could be more than a handful with his cutting remarks and annoying habits of attempting to woo every woman he laid eyes on. But despite all of that, he was good company for a journey. Sociable, good in combat, and capable of passing down wisdom whenever the mood to do so struck him.

Joan let out a soft groan. She would never admit it to his face lest he started to gloat about it, but she enjoyed having him around. It was far better than doing such a monumental task by herself.

The two were seated at the bar, and the blonde watched as Qrow ate a spoonful of venison stew. "Qrow? What was the hardest thing about being the Guildmaster? You mention it being stressful, but how bad was it?"

Qrow paused, swallowing. "Hmm. I think the hardest part about it was the loneliness of the position. When I was promoted to it, all I could think about was how lonely I was, without someone I loved being by my side to commemorate the occasion with me. I had Jaune and his wife Emerald there, but he had already settled down by then. He had already beat Jack of Blades the second time. And there I was, with no one to have with me to share it. " That sad look she saw earlier flashed in his pale red eyes again.

The pain he felt from losing his lover all those centuries ago was still raw and fresh in his mind, and he sighed before letting his spoon clink against the ceramic rim of his bowl. "I know that I promised to tell you about her, kiddo. But I'm not ready to talk about it with anyone else. Give me some time, okay? It might have been almost five hundred years ago, but it's still really fresh and raw to me."

Joan opened her mouth, but she remembered what he said about his curse. He had fallen asleep fairly early (mainly due to intense boredom) and found himself in a foreign land. His stunt of having sex with a nymph probably only felt about a week old in his memory.

"I won't bother you about it until you feel you're ready," she promised. A barmaid came by and placed a plate of freshly cooked salmon in front of her, and her stomach growled in want. The skin was nice and crispy, having been under the treatment of a fire for quite some time, and she picked up some silverware to eat.

The first bite gave her tastebuds a rich new experience. It didn't have a very strong fishy taste to it; instead it was subtle and refreshing. It was much better than she anticipated, and she tucked in eagerly. _'I think I've already acquired a liking for this. Huh. I never guessed I'd enjoy eating fish this much.'_

"It's good, isn't it? Nothing 'fishy' about it?" Qrow grinned at his own horrible pun, and Joan sputtered and choked. Qrow thumped her on the back to help clear her airway, and the blonde glared at him.

"You did that on purpose," she accused with narrowed eyes. "And your pun is terrible. You should be ashamed of it." _'Ugh. It's like dealing with Yang all over again. I forgot just how much I didn't miss those horrible puns.'_ Her heart still ached at the thought of Yang, but the blonde steeled herself.

She missed her and would've loved to have her by her side. But she was gone, and she had to come to terms with it. Qrow had put it best when they were leaving Raven's camp; she would fight not just for Yang and the others that her brother killed, but to prevent others she cares about losing their life in this war.

"Blondie, me and shame don't belong in the same sentence," the older man replied with a snort of laughter. He dipped his fingers into his glass of water, freshly gathered from the well, and flicked droplets at her to tease the blonde even more than he already was.

Joan shielded her face from the barrage of water, glaring at him. "Qrow! Don't you have anything better to do!?" Qrow's favorite past time, apart from hitting on the many cute barmaids and herself, seemed to be trying to annoy her in the most ridiculous and childish of ways he could think of. Sometimes, it was really hard for her to believe that the man was once the Guildmaster.

"Eh, not really." He shrugged and flicked a few more water droplets at her with a bored expression on his face. "We haven't heard any more problems in town that need Heroes to solve them. Sometimes, it's like this. Not every day is filled with danger, excitement, and quests; a lot of the time, you have to be patient and wait."

Joan rolled her eyes and wiped her face with a sigh, going back to eating her meal. "Please don't tell me the only reasons we're in here is because we were hungry and you wanted to look at the backside of any cute barmaids. Because if that's the case, I'm going to hit you."

"Not at all. The latter is just a fortunate bonus." Qrow grinned. "No, the real reason is because inns are great places to pick up rumors about what's happening in town. You want to hear some good juicy gossip? Pay the innkeeper a visit. Guaranteed to have more information than the damn rats themselves."

The blonde only shook her head and finished eating, making sure not a single bite went to waste. With her meal done, she wiped her mouth clean with a cloth and slid the clean plate away from her. "Well…I guess now we wait?"

"Pretty much," Qrow replied, the older man taking a quick chug from his bottle of juice. It was strange for the blonde to not see him drink some kind of alcohol, but the old bastard was sticking with his promise of giving it up.

"Great." Joan groaned and let her head gently thunk against the bar. "I hate waiting."

"I agree with you on that one." Qrow placed his bottle down with a sigh. "Let's just hope another bounty hunt comes along so we don't die of boredom waiting for a problem in town to arise."

They didn't have to wait long, as it turned out. A disheveled young soldier entered the tavern, and he approached the two Heroes hurriedly. "Excuse me, are you two the ones who've been helping us out the last few days?"

"Yep." Qrow stretched out and spun around in his chair, purposely nudging Joan in the side to make her turn around too. "Why? Do you have another bounty for us?"

"Yes." The soldier nodded and pulled out a piece of crumpled up paper from the pocket of his brilliant red coat. "We've received a complaint from one of our town's shop owners. A small number of bandits have been attacking traders on their way from Brightwall Village to the Dweller Camp in the north. Business in this town is bad enough as it is; could you perhaps show these bandits the error of their ways? Severely?"

Joan frowned. Surely Raven wasn't behind these attacks, was she? _'She'd have to be stupid to try that. She knows I can beat her. Perhaps this is a rival bandit tribe?'_

She could tell Qrow was also wondering the same thing. "You don't think…?"

"No." He shook his head. "I doubt this one is Raven. She'd have to be either insane or a complete idiot. I think we have a rival tribe behind this one."

He turned back to the guard. "Who are the known bandit leaders in the area? Apart from Raven, of course."

"Well, there's Ripper and his gang," the soldier replied. "And there's also the Winchester criminal empire that spans across the entirety of Albion. They have spies from here to Bowerstone."

"A criminal empire controlling the entire underworld? Damn. Things really have gone to hell since I last walked the country," Qrow muttered. He looked at the bounty again, and he pursed his lips. "Hmm. I doubt the boss of an entire organization as big as the Winchesters will need these kinds of supplies. These seem to be the doings of a bandit clan."

"Will you take the bounty?" the soldier asked hopefully. "You'll be doing this area a great service by doing so."

"Yep, we will." Qrow nodded and pulled a map of the region out of back pocket. "Just point us at 'em on the map and we'll take care of it."

The guard breathed out a sigh of relief and pointed with a pale skinny finger to one of the many locations listed on the map. "We believe they are operating from here. The Chillbreath Cavern system just outside of the monorail station in the Mistpeak Mountains. Unfortunately, with the town guard budget being as low as it is, we cannot afford to send out a patrol to exterminate the pests. My commander sent me to find you two."

"Well, he came to the right people." The older Hero winked, and he folded the map and put it away. "We'll get it done. Be back soon."

"Oh, thank you. You have no idea how much this will mean to the guards here. Once you have eliminated them, report to the commander of the guard at the post near the town entrance." The soldier hurried out the door, a bit more cheerful now that a serious issue was going to be taken care of.

Qrow gave Joan a grin, and he pulled out his greatsword to rest it across his shoulders. "So, what was that about not being patient? Because it looks like we have a job to do again."

Joan was only too happy to have something productive to do instead of sitting around a tavern bored out of her mind. She pulled out her pistol and checked it to make sure it was in perfect condition before grinning at him. "I could do with a little target practice to liven up the day." _'Good way for me to get better at shooting. Nothing like a little pest control to make a day exciting.'_

"That's the spirit. Come on, kiddo." Qrow led the way out of the tavern, and the warm early afternoon sun shone brightly on them. A thick blanket of clouds was approaching from the north, no doubt bringing another blizzard along with them.

Joan sighed at the thought of being caught in yet another snowstorm. She wouldn't deny that freshly fallen snow was pretty to look at, but the novelty wore off when she had to trudge through a foot of it just to get inside and her clothes were soaked from it. _'Dammit. Not another blizzard. Does the weather here know how to do anything apart from snow?'_

' _I think I'll be a little happier when we say goodbye to the mountains and move on to a warmer part of the country,'_ she thought, hugging her newly purchased cloak tight to her frame. It was the same shade of blue as her skirt, and it had a warm lining of sheep's wool on the inside of it. It cost her sixty eight gold coins, and so far it was looking like a purchase that was more than worth it. She just hoped it could withstand the harsh winds that frequently blew through Mistpeak's jagged peaks.

Joan kept her pistol in hand as they made their way over Brightwall Bridge and into the mountains. They had killed at least half a dozen packs of wolves when they rescued Eve earlier, but if there was one thing Joan learned about the animals , it was that they were really persistent predators.

The path through the small section of forest connecting the village to the mountains was nice and peaceful, though. Apart from the crows that were scavenging on one of the many wolf corpses, it was completely still. It was soothing being able to hear only the soft crunching of the undergrowth beneath their feet, the gentle cawing of crows as they dug into their meal, and the wind blowing through the leaves.

The blonde paused for a moment to drink in the tranquility of it all, exhaling loudly. _'The air is so clean up here. No trace at all of the thick factory smoke or the smell of the sewers. Pure and clean. It's wonderful.'_

If it weren't for the fact that her and Qrow had a mission to accomplish in getting rid of some bandits, she would've spent close to an hour in these woods alone breathing in the crisp air.

However, she reluctantly plodded after the older Hero, and she wasn't too surprised to see that he too was enjoying the freshness of everything himself. He had let his sword hang from his holster to walk with his hands behind his head, and he let out a relaxed sigh. "Ah…it's so nice up here. Say what you want about the damn snow and the worry of bandit attacks, but the serenity of this place is enough to make anyone forget their demons for at least a little bit, no matter how strong they may be."

"I second that," Joan agreed, picking up her pace to walk alongside him. She could spot several mountain flowers beginning to sprout up from the ground, their bright blue and red bulbs giving the ground a very colorful appearance. It added to the already idyllic beauty of this particular part of the region, and the blonde found herself feeling disappointed when the forest ended and they were greeted by the familiar ice and rock of the mountains.

' _Well, back to this dreary spectacle again.'_ Joan walked away from the peaks and headed east to another section of temperate forest. The cold rock was ugly compared to the warmth of the forest, and she hugged her cloak tighter to her body.

She didn't get very far when she suddenly felt eyes on her, and she reached for her pistol. _'We're not alone here, are we?'_

Qrow had his sword out, and his pale red eyes searching the thick canopies above them. "Come out, and I promise to make it quick. Waste my time, and I can't guarantee it'll be painless."

A group of bandits leapt down from the branches with angry snarls. One of them was taller and more muscular than the rest of them, and he flexed his powerful arms before lighting a cigar and sticking it in his mouth. "Get them, for Ripper!"

The bandits charged the two Heroes, and Qrow pushed the blonde out of the way. His voice was a low hiss in her ear. "Take the ones on the right. I got the big one."

"You sure?" she hissed back. "He looks like he could break down the castle doors with one punch!" The bandit leader's arms rippled with muscle, and he took a furious swing at the lithe Hero.

Qrow ducked under it with a casual smirk, landing a powerful uppercut squarely on the man's jaw. His head snapped back with a crack and he stumbled. Qrow jumped back to avoid a heavy punch to his face, chuckling and slicking his bangs back. "Come on, is that all you've got? Some bandit leader you are."

His taunts only enraged the bandit even more, and his swings became both vengeful and sloppy. And yet to Joan's amazement, Qrow continued to bob and weave to evade ever single strike with the fluidness of a dancer. He was grinning ear to ear and taunting his opponent the entire time, whether by sticking his tongue out at him like a child or by having his middle finger stuck up in the air with crude gusto to really drive the point home.

Joan could only sigh. _'Considering what he was like when he was still a gnome, that doesn't surprise me in the slightest. Dammit Qrow.'_

She aimed her pistol at the closest bandit and fired. He cried out in pain as the bullets struck him in the middle of his tough leather vest, and he fell to one knee. Blood slowly trickled out of the twin holes in his chest, and he didn't get a chance to look up before a third bullet tore through his skull and killed him. _'One down, three more to go.'_

While Qrow teased the leader, Joan picked off the two marksmen who were hiding amongst the trees. They fired their rusty iron rifles, only to yell indignantly when they completely missed the girl they were intent on murdering. Or robbing.

Joan sighed again. _'How did they manage to live this long when they have possibly the worst aim in all of Albion? I'm pretty sure even Klein could do better and he's a damned butler, for Avo's sake.'_ It really was perplexing; she wasn't going to pretend to be an expert on the lifestyle of a bandit, being royalty and all, but she was pretty sure that if one decided to live a life of robbing and murdering, they would need to be handy with a firearm.

The blonde had half a mind to insult their complete lack of skill before she showed them the price of their failures. But if there was one thing she didn't want to do, it was sink down to Qrow's level of taunting. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that her companion was still messing with the bandit leader with rude hand gestures and laughing at every failed attempt to punch him.

Joan got off two quick shots, and both bandits slumped to the forest floor. She spun her pistol on her finger before dropping it into her holster, and she turned to see if Qrow had finally gotten bored of teasing his enemy.

He hadn't. Not one bit.

"You know, I can tell you that your mother is something else under the bedsheets." Qrow chuckled and performed a fake drunk stumble to avoid a blow that would've torn his head from his shoulders. "She's a screamer, too. Bet you didn't know that, did you?"

' _That does it. I've had enough of this rubbish.'_ Joan rolled her eyes and drew her sword. The act was quite funny at first, but by now it had gotten both tiresome and immature. She sank her sword through the massive man's back, the tip of the blade protruding from his chest, and he sank to his knees with his eyes wide in shock. His cigar fell from his lips and Joan removed her sword from her enemy, wiping the blood off of it using a handful of the bandit's shirt.

She glared at the older Hero through narrowed eyes, not impressed with his taunting. "Was all of that really necessary? Or were you just bored? I'm inclined to believe it was the latter, knowing you." _'Unbelievable. He's just as bad as Port sometimes. The two of them are going to get along really well, I can tell. Except Qrow will actually refrain from telling about the glories of his youth.'_

"What, am I not allowed to have a little fun during a battle?" He gasped in mock hurt and placed a hand over his chest, red eyes alive with laughter. "Such a tyrant."

"You are a complete pain to deal with sometimes." Joan rolled her eyes with an irritated huff, leaving the black-haired man behind. "I'll go clear out that bandit hideout without you. Maybe then I'll get some peace and quiet."

"Kid, if you wanted peace and quiet, you're in the wrong profession," Qrow remarked, jogging up and keeping pace with her easily. "If there's one thing a Hero can never have, it's that. Something's always going to pop up."

"Seriously?"

"What, don't tell me you actually believe things will settle down once this revolution is over and you're sitting on the throne? It most certainly will not. Think of the amount of rubbish you'll have to deal with. Not only will you have to worry about the well being of the kingdom, you're also going to be dealing with crushing criminal organizations and getting rid of foul monsters. The life of a Hero is one filled with bloodshed. Being a monarch won't change that one bit."

The blonde scowled. She didn't want to think about the responsibilities that would surely befall her once her brother was usurped from the throne.

Instead, she was more curious about why she was able to use magic like her father, and why Logan wasn't. "Hey, Qrow? Why are we capable of using magic? By that, I mean why are some people Heroes and others are not, even if they share blood?"

Qrow frowned. "From what I remember Scythe telling me, Heroes are descendants of the Archons, powerful wizards during the time of the Old Kingdom. We share a direct connection with them; it's why we are able to use artifacts from that era and why their weapons feel natural to us. As for why some people have it and others don't, I guess it has something to do with it being a passive trait. My own parents weren't Heroes, but someone further down my bloodline was."

"But what about everyone else? Is there magic inside them?" she asked, ducking under a branch burdened with snow.

"A little bit. But not enough for them to notice or use it like you or me." Qrow shook his head and slicked his bangs back. "I remember a time when magic was much more common than it is now. For centuries it was like that. The Guild always stood, training the most gifted sons and daughters of the country. But after I disappeared and Jaune died from illness, the Heroes became the very thing they were supposed to protect the people from. They were thugs and thieves, using their status to get what they want whenever they wanted. Can't say it's much of a surprise that the people had enough and took action against them. You can only push someone down so many times before they get sick of it and fight back."

Joan looked at her own hands, both of them becoming cloaked in her magic. The light green swirl of her Time Control was mesmerizing to look at, and she closed her hand into a fist. _'I won't misuse these gifts. They were given to me to protect, not to attack. Protect not just myself, but the people who can't fight back. They need someone to believe in, who has heard their pleas for help. They need a Hero.'_

"I'll use my powers for the benefit of Albion, not myself," she vowed.

"Ambitious, are we?"

"A princess doesn't go back on her word, no matter how impossible her task may seem at the moment."

Qrow shrugged and chuckled. "I'll trust you to stick to that promise. Lead the way, your royal eminence."

"Don't call me that."

"Tch. Fine. What about Blondie?"

"Qrow, I swear to Avo I'm going to hit you."

"Short Stack?" Qrow was really enjoying himself too much with his teasing now, and he grinned at her.

"I warned you." Joan tried to whack him with the butt of her gun, only for Qrow to lazily dodge it and catch her wrist, bending her arm behind her back. She was pinned, and she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck. It felt… _good_. It was comforting, in a way.

"You still have a lot to learn, princess," Qrow whispered. "You're looking at one of the best hand to hand fighters in all of Albion."

"Drunken brawls don't count, Qrow." A little bit of pink was on Joan's cheeks, and she struggled to free herself from his grasp, her hips wiggling against him.

"Um…I wouldn't recommend you do that," Qrow warned. He released his grip, and he adjusted the waistband of his black pants slightly.

"Hmm?" Joan tilted her head to the side ever so slightly in confusion, but when all she got out of him with a facepalm, she didn't delve deeper into it. She just shrugged and continued to plod on through the forest.

Instead of turning left towards the faint smudge of Raven's camp, they followed the trail up alongside the mountains until they reached the opening of a cave. A cold wind blew through it, and Joan hugged her cloak against her.

"I officially hate the cold," she grumbled. "I cannot wait until we're in a warmer part of the country." _'Even in winter, Bowerstone was never this bad. I don't know how these people stand it.'_

In the capital it very rarely snowed, even during the wintertime. It also wasn't anywhere near as cold as the winter in the mountains, though that was mostly due to the altitude. Bowerstone was level with the sea, whereas Brightwall was several thousand feet higher thanks to being built in the mountains. She was unused to it, and really resenting the icy climate right now.

Qrow on the other hand was seemingly enjoying it. A lazy smile was gracing his lips, and he rubbed the stubble that dotted his jaw line. "Ah…that's a nice breeze. Also means there's an exit further within."

Joan rolled her eyes and was the first inside, looking around her. The cave system was even bigger than the one her and Qrow rescued Eve from, with the stony ceiling being at least ten to fifteen meters above them. Jagged spikes protruded from the ground and ceiling, and she could hear the slow dripping of water along with the gentle whistle of the wind.

And somewhere within, hiding in these treacherous icy depths, was a bandit clan that was marauding the good honest people of the kingdom. The people she'd have to fight for. The people she'd have to rule.

Joan reached for her sword, steeling her resolve, and she dropped into a crouch as they crept through the cave.

A few holes in the ceiling provided some sunlight, single streams of light penetrating the icy darkness. She could hear laughter further within, echoing off the walls loudly. _'Bandits. At least two of them, too.'_

The cavern twisted hard to the right, and she peered around the corner only to have Qrow yank her back by the collar of her shirt. She sputtered in surprise and turned to glare at him, and he had his fingers on his lips. "Quiet. We don't want to let them know we're here." His voice was little more than a low rasp.

"Well, what do you suppose we do?" she whispered back irritably. "Go in guns blazing and take them by surprise?"

"No." He shook his head, and a look of concentration appeared on his face. A few moments later, a beautiful golden longbow was in his hands along with a quiver full of arrows, and he readied one. "I'll take them out from a distance quietly. With a bit of luck, they'll be down and out before they even know what hit them."

Joan nodded and was more than content to let him play the stealth game. She wasn't good at being sneaky, and she wanted to see how he would fight when he wasn't purposely messing with his enemy's head. _'I know he's skilled. He's very agile and nimble despite using a heavy weapon like a greatsword, and he has a lot of strength behind his strikes. Never knew that he was an archer.'_

Qrow dropped into a crouch and aimed at the bandit furthest away from them, patrolling a stone bridge twenty meters away. He took a deep breath before he released the string, and the bandit fell from his position to the ground with an arrow embedded in his skull. "Bull's eye." He chuckled quietly.

He readied another arrow and took aim at another bandit. Like last time, his arrow soared true and found its mark. The bandit was able to clutch at his throat before he died, drawing the attention of his companion. The remaining bandit drew his axe, looking around for the person who just killed his fellow marauder. "Who's there!? Reveal yourself, assassin!"

"These guys really are stupid," Qrow muttered. He fired a third and final arrow, and the bandit toppled over. Joan let out a whistle, impressed by the display. Whereas she would have gone in sword swinging and gun blazing, Qrow had just dispatched them without alerting their enemies to their presence.

"That…was impressive," she remarked. "How did you manage to summon a bow like that?"

"All part of my magic." The older Hero grinned, running a hand over its shiny golden surface. "Nicely made, don't you think? This bow was once crafted by an Old Kingdom blacksmith. Their understanding of crafting weapons and armor was far superior to anything we had all those centuries ago. In fact, I'd wager that this beauty is stronger than even today's weapons."

"How did the Old Kingdom come to an end? I mean, they had superior magical abilities and weaponry," Joan said in confusion. "How could such an advanced civilization just completely fall to ruin?"

Qrow pursed his lips, thinking. "If what Scythe told me is true, then the Archons themselves got too powerful. While many were noble, using their powers for the benefit of the people, just as many were evil and corrupt. Many great wars took place over the most powerful magical construct in the world, the Tattered Spire. It was built as a conduit for all the magical power in the world, and whoever used it could undo the very world. The day it was completed, the Last Archon stepped inside its heart and made the first wish. The light that shone from it was bright, but its nature couldn't have been darker. Albion shattered; thousands of years of civilization were wiped out in seconds, its people erased from existence. Scythe said that this was the first wish: an end to a corrupt and hollow world, and for a new and purer one to take its place."

Joan was shocked. Her father, the previous king, had used the Spire himself to make his own wish. Such a powerful magical construct was something that could easily be misused. "But…it's still here. It was rebuilt, over fifty years ago. My own father used it."

Qrow raised an eyebrow, and he looked around. "Well…I can see that the world is still in one piece. So he gets points for that, at least." He chuckled, only to stop when he saw that the blonde didn't quite share his amusement. "What?"

"Qrow, the most powerful magical artifact in the world is still standing to this day, and it's active," she pointed out. "If someone were to—"

"Only those who have powerful magic themselves could use it. Scythe and I made a vow to never go near the damn thing if we could help it." He ruffled her hair with a grin. "You worry too much, kiddo. Do you really think the Archons would be dumb enough to let any poor old beggar use it?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "But still. It's scary to think of the many ways it could be used as a weapon." _'I see now why Ozpin is the guardian of it. He has to be, to make sure it is never used for malicious reasons ever again.'_

Joan followed Qrow deeper into the icy hideout, hugging her cloak tight against her body and moving as quietly as she could. Her boots made a whisper of a sound as they gently sank into icy gravel, and she stopped when Qrow once again put his arm up. "Wait. Five of them. We can either attempt to sneak around them, or we can kill them all so we don't have to worry about sneaking back out. Your call."

"If we leave them, they'll just keep on attacking," she pointed out quietly. "Let's take them down. Klein, send me the crossbow, please." _'My gun will make a lot of noise and draw attention. The crossbow is perfect for this type of situation. Quiet and deadly.'_

"Understood, madam. Good luck." Her gun vanished, and in its place was the crossbow. A pouch for the bolts was now attached to her belt, and she plucked one to load the weapon. It was a little heavier than her pistol, but not so much that it was a nuisance. It would still take a bit of time getting used to, though.

With the deadly bolt loaded, she aimed at a bandit patrolling near the rotted ruins of a wooden bridge half stuck in a frozen pond. The blonde lined up her sights and inhaled deeply before exhaling. On the exhale, she pulled the trigger. With a quiet thunk, the bolt soared towards its target and struck the man in the back of the head.

He crashed face first into the ice, and Joan winced at the crack of his neck breaking from the impact.

She reached for a second bolt as Qrow disposed a bandit of his own with a stealthy arrow to the face. Two down, three to go.

The three remaining started to take notice of their dead comrades, and an ugly brute of a bandit approached one of the corpses. "We're under attack! Search the shadows! Don't let the bastards leave here alive!"

Joan fired, and her bolt struck him squarely in the small of his back. Not a fatal blow, but one that was certainly painful. He cried out, and Qrow muttered something under his breath before finishing him off with a swift arrow to the head. "Joan, if possible, aim for the head or vital areas. Shooting for mass is good for practice, but these guys aren't practice targets. Aim to kill, not wound; they won't hold back, and neither should you."

"I get it," she grumbled, loading another bolt into the crossbow. It was a pain having to reload after every shot, but the thing packed one hell of a punch. It did more damage than her pistol and had a better range of effectiveness, though, so in her eyes it was easily worth the small hassle.

She fired at the fourth, sending him to the ground with a bolt between the eyes. "There? Is that better?"

Qrow sighed and easily finished the final one off with a well-placed shot to the heart. "When we get back, we're working on your aim. I'll set up some targets for you."

"You say it like I can't hit a damn thing to save my life." Joan rolled her eyes with a huff of annoyance, lowering her crossbow. "I haven't completely missed yet, have I?"

"There's a fine difference between confidence and arrogance," Qrow warned. "Being confident in one's abilities isn't a bad thing. But getting a big head about it will lead to your downfall. Trust me on that. I once thought the same thing. I thought nothing could touch me. And then it did."

He lowered his longbow with a sigh. "Come on. We should get a move on."

Joan followed him until the tunnel widened up into a much larger cavern. There, they saw their target, Ripper. He was a massive man, easily as tall as Qrow. In his hands was a steel cutlass, the blade gleaming brightly, and his dark face was mostly covered by a mask as he cackled. "Well, it looks like that damn pig sheriff decided to send some lowly mercenaries after me. Pathetic. Get them, boys!"

Ripper's men rose up and drew their weapons with yells, and Joan reached for her sword. _'We're outnumbered. But, they don't know what we're capable of.'_

She remembered what Qrow had taught her during their last spar, to not blindly rush in and use brute force. Having a sharp mind would serve her as well as a blade, spell, or firearm. "Qrow! Time Control!" _'There's too many. We'll need to thin them out before we can really get to Ripper.'_

The black-haired man nodded and reached for his own sword. "Got it."

Joan concentrated her magic and cast a Time Control spell. Everything slowed to a crawl, and the two Heroes were able to move freely without much of a problem. Joan's sword hacked and slashed her way through a pair of bandits, the blade easily cutting through their thin leather armor.

She parried a heavy blow from a third. A quick bash of her sword made him stumble, and Joan cut his chest open. Blood sprayed from the fatal wound, a bit of it getting on her clothes. "Ugh. These will need to go in the damn wash."

The world started to speed up again, and Joan grimaced. Her Time Control still wasn't as powerful as her father's.

Qrow leapt into the air and went straight for Ripper as the spell wore off. The bandit leader chuckled darkly and blocked Qrow's attack with his cutlass, using his raw strength to force the Hero back. He was heavily muscled, and he cackled. "Haha! You will provide the very thrill I've been seeking! Come at me, worm!"

He began to swing his cutlass in graceful arcs, and Qrow grinned back at him before meeting his blade with his own. "Hehe. Bring it."

Joan ran forward to assist him, and the older Hero shook his head. "Stay back! He's mine! Concentrate on the others!"

The blonde opened her mouth to protest, but a gunshot sounded off and she ducked as a bullet soared over her head. _'Too close! I'll have to trust Qrow to handle it.'_

She turned her attention to the trio of bandits who were closing in on her, and she let her magic come to life. Lightning cloaked her hands, little bolts dancing in a beautiful display on her fingertips, and she began to cast her spells.

Lightning bolts fired from the palms of her hands, and she could feel her blood pumping harder and faster with each passing second. Her adrenaline was coursing through her body, and she felt more alive every time she cast a spell. Two blasts of her magic was enough to dispatch the first bandit, and his fried corpse fell to the ground.

The sheer stench of cooked meat flooded her nostrils, and she felt her stomach churn horribly at the smell. She wanted to vomit, but by a miracle of the God of Light Avo, she managed to keep her lunch down. She jerked her blue gaze away from her enemy's body and focused on the next two. _'Suck it up, princess. This is something you'll see a lot of.'_

The two remaining bandits gave up trying to shoot her and instead reached for their axes. The weapons were ugly, rusted, and crudely made. It looked more akin to a child's attempt at forging rather than an actual weapon for the battlefield, and Joan scoffed. _'Really? Fierce bandits have been killing with these shoddy pieces of garbage? Either the guards really aren't doing their job as Klein said, or they've been getting lucky with their ambushes.'_

She glared at the two men and charged up her power, wanting them to get close to wipe them out with one powerful surround spell. _'Come on, get closer…'_

They leapt at her with savage yells befitting of their occupation, and Joan smirked before she cast the spell. Twin bolts of lightning stunned them, and their bodies shook violently as the powerful electricity coursed through their bodies and disintegrated them. They fell in heaps of bones, and Joan wiped her brow before glancing over at Qrow to see how he was faring against Ripper.

As far as she could see, Qrow was being calm and collected. His eyes were focused during the fight, using his sword's size and weight to easily deflect blows that would've probably shattered a lesser blade. Sparks flew out as the two pieces of sharpened metal collided, and Ripper spat angrily.

"Damn you! Why won't you just drop dead!?" he yelled. His mask had fallen off, revealing a messy black beard underneath, and his dark eyes were filled with frustration as Qrow continued to easily parry everything he threw at him. "Curse you!"

Qrow lazily ducked under a furious swing, and he grabbed the bandit leader by the wrist and twisted. This forced Ripper to drop his sword, and Qrow used his own momentum to impale the bastard onto his greatsword.

Ripper's eyes bulged, and he looked down at the large steel blade embedded in his chest. "N-no. I can't believe it…"

Blood ran down Qrow's sword like tiny rivers of death, and he raised his knee up to push the heavy man off of his sword. Ripper stumbled and fell to his knees, and with one clean swing Qrow decapitated him. Blood sprayed out, and Joan averted her gaze to not see Ripper's headless corpse fall to the ground.

"Well, I think that's our bounty accounted for," Qrow said quietly. He grabbed the severed head and tossed it into an empty knapsack, tying the strings tight. He noticed Joan staring at him in shock, and he sighed. "We'll need proof we killed the bastard, won't we? Providing the head is pretty solid evidence."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Joan grumbled, holding her cloak tight against her as a strong gust of wind blew through the cavern. "Apart from asking if we can get out of the damned cold already."

"Heh. Come on, Blondie. Let's go."

* * *

When they arrived back in Brightwall Village, they approached a gruff-looking soldier by the very entrance of the garrison. His beard was neatly trimmed, and he squinted at them as they approached. "Ah, are you the two bounty hunters my men employed earlier? Have you got any good news?"

"Yep." Qrow nodded and tossed the knapsack at his feet, placing his hands behind his head. "Inside, you'll find the head of the bandit leader Ripper. No longer will he be a threat to Brightwall."

The captain picked it up, peered inside, and nodded in approval. "Very well. You have not only earned your bounty, but done us a great service. The people here can sleep easier at night, knowing that you have eliminated such a vile renegade. You have our full support; you can count on it. Now, here is your reward. Try not to spend it all on mead, will you?"

He dropped two sizable bags of gold in their hands and walked away with a confident swagger in his step, and Qrow grinned at her. "Well, what do you know, princess? Looks like now you have the support of the local guards. That's good; you can always use trained soldiers on your side."

Joan nodded, counting the gold. _'Five hundred gold each? For just one man? We've made quite the living being bounty hunters here already. Imagine how much we could make if we took our talents to Bowerstone. We'd be rich in no time. We wouldn't have to worry about staying at the inn all the damn time.'_

' _Think, Joan. Use your damned head. Ripper was someone who was highly sought after. Most of the criminals in Bowerstone, unless they're part of the Winchesters, are lowlife scum. We'd be lucky to get more than a hundred gold apiece for them.'_ She groaned inwardly. So much for hoping to make that her primary source of income. _'Dammit. I should've known better than to even try thinking of that.'_

She watched as a man carrying a crate tripped over a chicken, and the crate shattered into several dozen splinters as it fell from his grasp. The man yelled angrily in frustration and made to kick the small bird, but it was already running away from him up the road that didn't lead to the academy. "Bloody chickens! Can't those two imbeciles keep control of their own damn pets!?"

"What?" Joan helped him up, confused. "What do you mean? Did they escape from somewhere?"

"Aye. That they did. Stupid little buggers." The man dusted himself off with an irritated grumble, scowling. "Bernard and Patsy have a farm up on the hill to your left. Somehow their damn chickens have gotten loose. He better do something about them quick, or I'll give them one hell of a kick!"

"Sounds like you have a job to do, princess." Qrow stretched his arms above his head with a yawn, grinning. "Best get to it. I'll start making some targets for us to practice shooting, okay?"

"Sure. Better me than you." She winked and gave the poor carrier a smile. "Don't worry about it, alright? I'll see what I can do about it." _'Compared to fighting bandits, this should be easy to deal with. I mean, how hard could it be? It's only chickens.'_

While Qrow went off to go make some targets for later, Joan jogged over the small bridge up towards the farmhouse on the top of the hill. She passed by a hair stylist, and her curiosity getting the better of her, she poked her head inside.

The stylist himself was a funny-looking man with a curled mustache and pink hair styled up on his head, and he bowed gracefully when he saw her. "Ah, a potential customer! Welcome, welcome! How may I possibly be of service to you today? Perhaps a dash of makeup, or maybe you want my skilled hands to rework your hair into an exquisite work of art?"

Joan tapped her chin. Her hair was already getting to the point of being damn near unmanageable with its length, reaching halfway down her back. But something about the slightly unruliness appealed to her. _'Ugh. That sounds like something Qrow would say. Curse him.'_

"What kind of makeup do you have?" she asked instead.

"Oh, many different kinds! My best sellers so far are the traditional and enchanting sets," the stylist replied. "Which one are you interested in?"

"Traditional, please," the blonde politely requested. _'Good thing Klein already has the dressing room cleared out. I could use it.'_

"Oh, marvelous! Simply marvelous!" He positively beamed. He handed her a small case in exchange for twenty eight gold coins. "Here you are. May it transform you into an exquisite form that radiates beauty!"

Joan walked outside, and the makeup kit glowed brightly before Klein took it to the Sanctuary's dressing room. "Thank you, Klein. I simply don't have the time to really do anything with it at the moment."

"Just doing my duty," her butler quipped. "Now, I believe the problem with Bernard's chickens requires your immediate attention. Try not to get too distracted, will you?"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it before Qrow ends up being run out of town for sleeping with someone's wife," she reassured. "It's only chickens. How hard can it be?"

"You say that now." Klein chuckled. "Just wait and see. I guarantee that you'll end up regretting ever uttering those words."

She brushed him off and continued up the stone road. _'He's acting all paranoid about it, like some magical problem will arise to make it much more difficult. It's not like I'm going up against Raven or exploring an ancient ruin looking for magical artifacts.'_

Joan found the farmhouse, and standing in the middle of a small field with his face in his hands was a middle-aged farmer with a graying beard and dirty clothes. This had to be the farm's owner, Bernard.

Bernard looked up as she approached, and he sighed. "This is just terrible. Somehow, the gate was opened, and all of the little buggers escaped! I don't know how they did it, and I probably never will. Contrary to belief, chickens can be quite crafty. I know the townsfolk are tired of running into them, so could you do a poor old farmer a favor and round them up?"

"I don't see why not." Joan shrugged. "Sure."

"Good, thank you," he said, letting out a relieved sigh. He pulled out a stack of feathery clothes, and Joan's eyes widened. She'd recognize it anywhere, and she groaned inwardly. _'Oh, you've got to be kidding me. For the love of Avo, I thought I'd had enough of a damned chicken costume!'_

"I won't say I told you so." Klein chuckled.

"You'll have to wear this," Bernard said. "Remember, chickens are cleverer than they look. They won't fall for that, 'Here chicky-chicky, I've got some lovely treats for you'. Nah. They're too smart. You'll have to defeat them psychologically. Just don't let them try and reason with you; you don't want those nasty little blighters in your head, believe me. Just flap your wings and such, and they'll follow you back."

"Well, where should I begin looking?" she asked, reluctantly taking the chicken costume. _'Not again. I really hate this damn thing. First chance I get, this is getting thrown into a lake.'_

She meant it, too. The blonde would get rid of the costume as soon as she could; the last thing she wanted was for Qrow to see her in it, for he would most definitely fall to the ground howling with laughter at her predicament.

"Well, I've heard there was one group by the statue behind the clothing store," Bernard replied. "That seems like a reasonable place to start, at least."

"Alright. I'll be back."

Klein was definitely going to be a little smug about being right.

* * *

Klein was waiting for her in the dressing room and he coughed in a vain attempt to disguise his laughter, his mustache ruffling. "Well, madam. It seems as though you must don the feathery disguise once more."

"I get it," she grumbled, her cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink as she grudgingly put it on over her clothes. "This is what I get for saying those cursed words. I basically brought it on myself."

"That you did, madam."

"Please, do me a favor. Just this once."

"Oh?" Klein's thick and bushy eyebrows rose. "What is it?"

"Please, for the love of Avo, don't let Qrow see me like this," she pleaded desperately. "I'll never hear the end of it if he does."

"I'll certainly try my best in the endeavor to preserve her highness's dignity." Klein smirked, with a twinkle of laughter in his eyes. Joan groaned and he chuckled.

He definitely wasn't going to help her at all. In fact, he probably wanted for Qrow to see her in such an embarrassing predicament. "Damn it all…"

It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

Back in town and wearing the chicken costume, Joan prowled through the streets of Brightwall with an air of annoyance surrounding her like a thick blanket. A scowl was firmly set on her face, and she tried her very best to ignore the quiet and choked snickers of the townsfolk as she searched for Bernard's damned chickens. _'I can't believe I'm actually doing this. I'd love for this all to be some kind of stupid dream.'_

To make matters worse, Klein was among those snickering at her; he hadn't stopped since she was handed the damn costume.

She pinched herself in a vain attempt to wake herself up. A twinge of pain shot up her arm, and she winced. "Ow." _'Dammit. I should've known better than to hope for that.'_

Still, could be worse.

She stalked up the steps that led to the small field behind the clothing store, and lo and behold there was a small group of chickens pecking away. With a roll of her eyes, she flapped her 'wings' and made a pretend chicken noise. To her surprise, the chickens jolted as if they were electrocuted, and they looked up at her with gentle clucks.

' _Wow. That actually worked. Huh. Once you get past the fact that you look absolutely ridiculous, this is actually an easy job,'_ the blonde mused. "Come on. Back to the farm you go."

She turned on her heel and led them back to the farm, ignoring the laughter of the townsfolk. _'I'd like to see them do this job. It would be nice to just kick back and relax while someone else gets to do the embarrassing work for once.'_

' _Hold it together, Joan. You've survived giving speeches to the most stuck up and prudish nobles of the kingdom. You can handle being dressed in a damn chicken costume for at least a little bit longer.'_

Or so she hoped.

When she arrived back at the farm, the chickens clucking at her heels, Bernard was grinning from ear to ear. "Ah, look at that! You have quite a knack for this! Now, the second pack should be down near the stream."

He picked up the four chickens and thrust them into their coops, slamming the doors shut. "Stay in there, you nasty little bastards!"

Joan couldn't hold in her cough of laughter. It was funny, if she ignored the fact that she was wearing currently dressed like she was a bloody jester. _'One down, two to go.'_

The blonde made her way down, and like Bernard said, the second pack of chickens were grazing near the bottom of the road by the stream. She didn't even have a chance to flap her wings before they looked up at her like she was the ultimate chicken god. Joan was torn between laughing and sighing in despair.

She didn't get very far before she heard a loud howl of laughter. Joan groaned, for she knew who it was immediately. "Oh, just great…" _'Dammit. I should've known he would show up. Of all the times…'_

It was Qrow.

Qrow was clutching his sides from laughing so much, tears of pure mirth streaming from his dull red eyes. "By Avo! What on earth possessed you to wear that!? Ahahahaha!" He stumbled and fell on the ground, drawing the attention of literally everyone within earshot.

Joan's face was the darkest shade of red it had ever been once people started staring, and she growled before reaching for her sword. "Qrow, I swear to Avo, if you don't shut up this very instant, I'll cut off a very specific part of your anatomy."

Her threat did nothing but make him laugh even harder, if that was possible. He looked up at her, gasping for breath. "What are you going to do, peck me to death? Oh no, Oh Mighty Hen, please spare me your feathery wrath!"

Joan was so embarrassed, she wanted to curl up and disappear. "I hate you. So much right now."

"You know, we once called Jaune 'Chicken Chaser' for an incident involving him and a pack of chickens." Qrow got off the ground and grinned, dusting himself off. "But this might be the funniest thing I've seen a Hero do involving chickens in a long time. Nice to see that theme hasn't died yet, even five hundred years later."

"Do I even want to know?" Joan asked rhetorically, leading the chickens up to Bernard's farm again this time with Qrow behind her, still snickering.

"Well…" His smirk never left his face. "Let's just say that kicking chickens used to be a sport in Albion back in the day. They held contests in Oakvale, and Jaune had a certain grudge against them. He didn't like them at all; in fact, if you brought one near him, he would attempt to shoot it with a damn crossbow."

"Why did he hate them so much?" she asked curiously. "Did he have some kind of traumatic event involving them or something?" _'Why would one of the mightiest Heroes in history have a hatred towards birds?'_

"It's kind of a long story." The black-haired man rubbed along his stubble. "But to sum everything up, Emerald thought it would be funny to put a chicken in Jaune's bed. When they went to go to sleep that night, it squawked indignantly about being squashed and pecked his rump. As you can imagine, he didn't take kindly to that. Half the Guild watched Jaune chase a chicken around as naked as the day he was born in the middle of the night, all while he was casting every spell known to the Guild in an attempt to kill it."

Joan shook her head with a sigh. "Wow. If I had heard that from someone else, I'd have thought they were insane. Or drunk." _'Or both at the same time. Drunk and off their rocker. Not a pleasant combination when one thinks about it.'_

She led them back to the farm, and like last time, Bernard angrily slammed the chickens back in their coop with a brandish of his fist. Joan felt a bead of sweat trickle down her neck. If this was how the guy reacted to his chickens getting loose, she'd hate to think of what he'd do if his wife had an affair with another man.

"Only one more pack of the bastards to find," he announced much to Joan's relief. "I think they might be under the bridge, on the road leading up to the academy. I've heard a few crate carriers complaining about tripping over the little buggers around there."

' _Only one more left. Thank Avo for that.'_ Joan breathed a sigh of relief and set off, glaring at Qrow whenever he let out a snicker. "Shut up, Qrow. I'm really not in the mood for any of your stupid antics or whatever rubbish you like to get up to."

"Come on, kiddo. If it was me wearing that, you know damn well you'd be laughing too." Qrow winked.

Joan huffed in annoyance and looked away, refusing to acknowledge his claim. _'What would Yang do if she saw me in this? Apart from make a bad joke or flirt with me?'_

'… _she'd laugh too, now that I think about it. I swear, her and Qrow are almost exactly the same in the way they act. Except Qrow's a little more somber and Yang was more outgoing and friendly. Still, the similarities are frightening. One would think they were related if they were side by side.'_

She felt her heart ache painfully at the thought of Yang. Oh how she missed her right now; she'd be the calming presence she needed at the moment. But wishing would never bring her back. She was gone now.

' _No. She's not gone. I still remember her, and love her. As long as she is in my thoughts and heart, she will never be truly dead. I love you, Yang.'_

She felt her chest and took in a deep breath, and she nearly tripped over the chickens thanks to her not paying attention to where she was going. "Waah!"

"Easy there." Qrow caught her before she could fall, grunting as he pulled her upright. "Watch your step; you won't always have me to look out for you like this."

"Thanks Qrow." Joan looked at the chickens, and they looked back at her with their little black eyes. They squawked and began pecking around at her feet, and she sighed. "Come on. Time for you to go home."

They followed her eagerly, and surprisingly Qrow didn't let out another laugh like he did earlier. Instead, he kept his hands behind his head and whistled a jovial tune. It was rather pretty and pleasing to the ear, and she felt more at ease the longer he whistled.

She went to the farmhouse with the chickens in tow, and Bernard scooped them up and placed them in their coops. "That's the last of them. At last, the town can rest easy."

An angry woman stalked up him, with a long brown dress on and a wide brimmed hat. "Oh, Bernard, you've gone and locked them up again! This isn't right! They deserve to be free!"

"Patsy, I know it was you," he growled in response. "You're always going on about the damn chickens and their freedom. You let them out in the first place!"

"Alright, I did it! I admit it!" Patsy yelled. "I couldn't live with myself, being a part of this oppression."

"Well, it seems as though I have no other choice here. I know you'll try to facilitate another escape. And that means the only option I have is to kill them all," Bernard threatened, picking up an iron rifle and loading it.

Patsy gasped, shaking her head frantically. "Please, don't! Let's…let's just talk about this, okay? Please, Bernard. I beg of you."

Bernard looked at Joan, who was furiously removing the chicken costume as quickly as she could; she didn't want to have to spend another minute wearing the damn thing if she could help it.

"Your thoughts on this?" he asked. "After all, you actually got the bastards back. What's to be done?"

Joan looked at him as though he were insane. "Seriously? You're willing to possibly destroy your marriage and be a butcher just because of a small issue? Have you gone completely mental? Keep them alive, you bloody twat."

It was rare that the usually kind princess ever insulted someone. But this man easily deserved it. Even more than Qrow. At least he hadn't attempted to kill defenseless birds for no reason.

The older Hero was watching her with an impressed look on his face, and he stopped whistling his tune to nod approvingly. "Damn, princess. I didn't know you had it in you. Color me impressed."

"Qrow, I'm not in the mood."

"I wasn't kidding."

Bernard himself was taken aback, and he nodded. "V-very well…we'll let them live. If I had killed them…I would've just made them martyrs, wouldn't I? Alright Pat, come on; let's talk about this."

The farmer and his wife went inside their house to talk it over, and Qrow let out a chuckle. "Well…damn. That turned out to be much more difficult than it should have, huh?"

"Yeah, no kidding." Joan felt slightly guilty about letting her sour mood get to her and insulting the poor farmer, but it was still somewhat deserved in her eyes. _'I'll apologize to him later on, when he's not busy with his wife. Dear Avo, that could be taken the wrong way.'_

There was only one thing left for her to do. "Hey, Klein? Do you happen to have any matches?"

"Of course. Wait…why?"

"…I want to get rid of this stupid costume the only way I know how," she replied dryly. "And that is by burning it until nothing is left but ashes and bad memories."

"As you wish, your highness." A flash of light later, and a box of matches were in her hands. Joan pulled one out and struck it against the outside, lighting it, and she lit the costume on fire.

It was then that she realized a problem with her plan of getting rid of it. She didn't have any water on her. _'Oh, bloody hell…I'll go get some water before I accidentally set the whole village on fire.'_

"Oh, and by the way, Joan?" Klein was back, and he chuckled as she sprinted to the nearest well to grab a bucket of water.

"Yes, Klein? Please make it quick," she pleaded through gritted teeth, pulling the rope through the pulley system to bring up the rusted old bucket. "Kind of need to get water before I turn the entire village to ash." _'I am such a damn fool sometimes. I really should've thought this through properly from the beginning.'_

"You have amassed quite the following in Brightwall now. Congratulations; you've managed to convince these fine people to send some supplies up to the Dweller Camp. Glynda will be waiting for you by the town exit, whenever you get finished with your little problem."

"Right. I'll make my way to her when I'm done." Joan ran back to where her fire was, and she waited for it to completely consume the costume before she dumped the water onto it. The hungry flames were extinguished, and she wiped her brow. "Thank Avo that's done."

"You know, I am going to miss that costume in a way," Qrow remarked, smiling. "It brought up some good memories. Not to mention you looked pretty cute in it, too."

"That does it. You're dead, old man," Joan growled, her cheeks red. "Get over here!"

"Ha! Missed me!"

"Dammit Qrow!"

Whether she was hunting down bandits or chasing chickens, it was all in a day's work for Joan. And though she didn't want to admit it, she enjoyed both parts of her day. It was fun chasing chickens, wearing that ridiculous suit or not.

 _ **A/N: Holy fucking shit, we're done! Over eleven thousand words XD. What the actual fuck XD. This is easily the longest chapter I've ever written for any story. And to think we're STILL in the beginning arc...goddammit brain XD. I've had way too much fun with this one.**_

 _ **C. Strife #5371**_


	8. Hope Restored

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter eight! Last chapter saw the largest fucking chapter I've ever done, and this one sees the end of the Mistpeak arc. Finally. XD**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***Hope Restored***

Joan panted for breath, glaring at Qrow. She was exhausted from running all over town trying to catch Qrow so she could hit him for laughing at her when she was out searching for Bernard's chickens, but somehow the raven-haired man always managed to stay just out of her reach. _'How? How the hell does he do it!? I can never catch him!'_

Qrow was basking in all of his smug glory at being able to not only making the princess of Albion run around letting embarrassed noises, but also effectively draining her physically. "Told ya. You can never catch me, as much as you'd love to." He stuck his tongue out teasingly.

Joan growled and went to hit him, but like all of her previous attempts, it did not go well. He merely grabbed her wrist and tripped her with a lazy sweeping kick to take her legs out from underneath her. She stumbled to her knees, and she grumbled in annoyance at the laughter dancing in Qrow's dull red eyes. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Blondie, life is way too short to spend it being miserable," he answered, helping the blonde princess to her feet. "You have to learn how to laugh at yourself and enjoy the little things. It's kept me sane through this. Do I miss everyone that I once knew? Most definitely. But you know what? I still have fond memories of them. Even that big idiot Thunder; sure, he was a bit of a braggart who loved to throw his status around, but I still respected him as a fighter and a friend."

"How powerful was he? Thunder, I mean. I've read a book that there is supposedly a sword he used, called the Thunderblade, that allowed him to rend the sky itself. Is it true, or just more exaggeration?" she asked, dusting herself off.

"Oh, it is most definitely true, kiddo. Thunder was damn near unbeatable in a fight," Qrow replied. "He had impressive physical strength, but that sword did allow him to call forth the fury of the skies. I can't tell you how many times I've seen someone try to take him on, only to be in for one heck of a shock." He grinned at his little pun.

Joan groaned, holding her head in her hands to hide her smile. Yep, he was definitely like Yang; his antics did raise her spirits a bit. "…I don't even want to dignify that one with a response. You should be ashamed of yourself for that." _'Thanks, Qrow. After chasing those stupid chickens around earlier, I definitely needed a bit of a laugh.'_

"Not gonna happen, Blondie." Qrow winked and patted her on the shoulder. "So, how are you feeling now? In the short time you've been here, you've managed to garner the support of an entire town and its soldiers with your deeds. Not to mention you have a highly skilled fighter in Raven on your side."

"Well, I feel glad I was able to make a difference," she replied slowly. "But at the same time, I feel even more pressure on me. I don't want to lead them to their deaths." She had every right to be worried; regardless of whether the revolution was successful or not, there would be casualties on both sides. Would those who died following her blame her for their deaths? Would their families hate her?

"I can see why you're concerned," Qrow said. "That's war for you. A good leader has to have compassion for those who follow them. But a good monarch has to be willing to sacrifice what they love for the greater good of the kingdom. It isn't easy, knowing that you'll possibly be sending them to their deaths. But if they truly believed that what they were fighting for was right, they would believe their sacrifice would be more than worth it. You've given them hope, something that's been missing from this dreary mountain village for quite awhile. They believe in you; why don't you have a little faith in yourself?"

"I guess you're right." Joan let out a sigh, brushing a gloved hand over the handle of her longsword. "Does it get any easier with time?" _'I just hope we can succeed. I don't want to let them down by failing.'_ By Avo, the weight of the world was indeed growing heavier on her shoulders.

She glanced at Qrow, who was now nose deep in a book he had convinced Glynda to let him borrow. At least she didn't have to carry the burden by herself and there was someone who could help ease the weight, even if he sometimes was a bit of a pain to deal with. He had wisdom and experience, two things that made him an invaluable asset.

A bit of a sickening sensation settled in her stomach at that thought. Qrow was a person, not a tool. Same with those who would follow her in her mission to overthrow her brother. They were not some pawns on a chessboard for her to manipulate. They were all people. The people she'd have to rule. The people she'd have to protect from the threats that lurked in Albion's darkest corners. If this was how her brother constantly felt with the crown on his head, no wonder he descended into the bottomless dark pits of madness.

Joan sighed. There was no point in her worrying about it all the time; at the end of the day, she still had to see it through to the end, whether it meant she died on the battlefield or succeeded and overthrew Logan's tyranny.

The blonde princess glanced at the book Qrow was reading. The cover was beautifully designed, with a golden symbol very similar to the Guild Seal on it. Whatever its contents were, they definitely piqued Qrow's interest; his pale red eyes darted rapidly as he flicked through the delicate pages, and he let out curious little murmurs as he read. "Interesting…"

"What's that about?" Joan asked. "Anything exciting?" _'I thought he only liked to read erotic novels. I didn't take him to be interested in anything remotely academic when it came to reading.'_ He did tell her that he once had the greatest collection of erotic literature in all of Albion and he expressed great displeasure in knowing that it had been burned during the Fall of the Guild all those long centuries ago.

"Oh, this? This is just a bit of history on the Heroes that formed a powerful trio about ten years before the Guild burned," he answered, placing a small bit of cloth between the pages to serve as a marker before snapping it shut. He placed it in the back pocket of his black pants with a yawn, stretching. "Not sure how interested you are in history, but if you ever get bored while we're on the road, I'll lend it to you to read. Just don't spoil any of the juicy parts should they pop up."

He winked and Joan let out an embarrassed groan. Despite her history with Yang, she still got embarrassed at the mention of any kind of sexual activities; she didn't want to imagine what the blonde noble would say if she caught the princess reading such dirty literature. By Avo, she'd probably howl with laughter and give Qrow a high five for succeeding at managing to corrupt royalty or something. If she were around, the two would get along perfectly.

"Qrow, do you absolutely have to bring up that? Don't you have an ounce of decency in you at all?" she asked half-rhetorically.

"Hey, I can be decent just fine, Short Stack. I just love to tease you; you try and act angry with me, but secretly I bet you enjoy it." He grinned at her.

Joan felt heat rise to her cheeks and she looked away with an irritated 'hmph', refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. As annoying as it was, she _did_ enjoy it. But she knew the minute she admitted to it, the gloating would never cease. His mouth would never stop running, and she'd probably have to kill him in order to get him to shut up.

Her cheeks still a faint shade of pink, she pointed with a lazy flick of her wrist over to the town gates where a large crowd had gathered in anticipation of their arrival. "Well…that's quite the crowd. Am I really that popular around here?"

"Considering how much you've done? Yeah, I'd say so." Qrow let out a chuckle and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly when he noticed her hesitation. "Nervous?"

"Yes," she admitted, shivering a little despite the warm fur cloak draped around her shoulders. "I've never been comfortable in large crowds, especially when I had to attend court meetings in the castle. Dealing with the nobles of the kingdom always made me feel uneasy."

"Well hey, look at the bright side. You're not exactly dealing with pompous idiots who turn their nose up at the tiniest speck of dust," Qrow pointed out. "These villagers are humble and simple folk. Besides, I doubt Glynda is going to make you speak publicly anyway."

"I really hope you're right." Joan could only sigh and brace herself for the inevitable storm.

As she neared the crowd, the sea of villagers parted and let her into the main square of Brightwall, all of them letting out loud cheers. Joan blinked in surprise, taking in the thunderous noise. These people were applauding _her_ for her deeds, and that made a smile creep onto her face.

Glynda was waiting for her, and the applause died down a little once she coughed into her hand to speak. "Esteemed citizens of Brightwall, today we show the generous nature of our fair town. For far too long have our mountain neighbors in the Dweller Camp suffered in silence, and it is time we extend a helping hand to those in need. But all of this would not have been possible if it was not for the courage and determination of one woman: the daughter of the old Hero King. From this day forth, we shall know you as the Hero of Brightwall!"

Qrow gave her a gentle thump on her back, grinning widely from ear to ear, showing his own approval with lazy claps. "Told you, didn't I? You can do this."

Joan nodded, and Glynda took a step towards her. "As we pledge ourselves to you, we hope that you in return would pledge yourself to us. Promise that you will restore Brightwall to its former glory and reopen the academy that your father founded."

"I will." Joan's response was almost instant; the doubt and anxiety she usually harbored for herself during public speeches like this were gone. In its place was instead a calm determination to right the wrongs of her brother and banish the shadow of his rule one step at a time.

"Very good. I expected nothing less from you." They shook hands and the blonde librarian gestured over to several young men and women standing by the gates, their arms laden with dark wooden crates. "These brave volunteers have offered to carry these supplies up to the Dweller Camp. May they go forth with our blessing. I do hope that you'll return one day, not just as our Hero, but as our queen."

Joan turned to face the crowd, and the blonde princess savored the applause that rang in her ears. This was it. She had the beginnings of an army on her side now. The revolution was slowly starting to take shape. And this was one moment she would always look back on.

With a smile on her face and the sun shining brightly above her, she raised her hand into the air.

"Come on, let's hear three cheers for the Hero princess!" the innkeeper yelled. "Free pints of my legendary brew tonight!" This announcement was met with more happy cheers, and Qrow couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, that's certain to get their attention," he remarked. "You know, you didn't do bad at all. You don't give yourself nearly enough credit."

"Thanks, Qrow," she murmured. "You've helped me out a lot. You didn't have to, you know. You could've just gone your own way, but you chose to stick by my side and assist anyway you can. You'll always have my gratitude."

"Heh, don't mention it, Blondie." Qrow smiled and rested his hand on her shoulder, the two watching the crowd happily make their way into the Quill and Quandary to indulge in more festivities inside. "Jaune would've found some way to kill me if I didn't lend his own flesh and blood a hand."

"Really?"

"Yep. Besides, I can't leave a cute girl to run around the world by herself."

There it was. She knew that he would find some way to compliment her form.

But instead of allowing it to rile her up and make her annoyed, she took what Qrow said earlier to heart. She gave him a smirk back, pushing some of her soft blonde locks to the side. "I don't know about that. I'm pretty sure that if I put my mind to it I could leave you far behind, old man."

In the time she had spent with him, she did manage to find out one thing that was sure to get him annoyed. Qrow really did not like any kind of jabs about his age. For someone who was once the leader of the entire Heroes Guild, he had a bit of a sensitive spot for his age.

"Who are you calling old, Short Stack?" he asked with a hint of an amused growl in his tone. "I can very easily beat you senseless."

"You sure about that, old man?" Joan continued to smirk at him, sticking out a small pink tongue to tease him the same way he teased her. "You don't exactly look like you are in any kind of position to try and make any threats, dusty old bird." _'I know I'm probably asking for a lot of trouble. But at the same time, it is so worth it just to see him get irritated for once.'_

She would gladly suffer a few bruises if it meant she could give Qrow a few little jabs back. Such childish acts were very petty and immature, but she supposed she could afford to let her hair down a little and enjoy herself.

Besides, Klein also found it hilarious. Her butler was trying very poorly to disguise his loud guffaws with coughs, and she smirked. "Having a little trouble there, Klein? Seeing you like that is a little strange." _'It's been awhile since I've heard him laugh like that. He didn't even laugh this hard during the time Port was complaining about mice when we left the castle behind.'_

"Please, forgive me for the brief lapse in my composure, madam," he apologized with a chuckle. "But I daresay, it appears to me as though your companion's quirks are starting to rub off on you a little more with each day. Are you sure you're not thoroughly enjoying his company?"

Of course he, the ever observant butler who never let the princess out of reach of his eyes or ears, would notice that she was growing more and more content with Qrow hanging around. Joan wasn't sure whether to blush or groan. She settled for both.

"Klein, don't start," she pleaded. "Otherwise I'll never hear the end of it from him."

"I'm right here, you know. And I can hear you quite clearly." Qrow smirked mischievously at her. "I knew my charm would rub off on you sooner or later, princess. Looks like you owe me lunch now."

Joan groaned and held her head in her hands. "Oh for the love of Avo. Why are you always so hungry? You eat more than Port!" _'And yet he doesn't seem to gain weight. Ever. Is it because our bodies are much stronger than normal people due to our powers? I mean, it's the only thing that makes a lick of sense.'_

"Short Stack, when you go nearly five hundred years without eating, you tend to develop one hell of a craving for nearly anything that could be considered even remotely edible," Qrow replied with a smirk. He patted his smooth and toned stomach affectionately. "Besides, I have a have this incredible passive magic ability that allows me to burn off any excess in battle."

"Really? Sounds—"

"Gullible isn't in the dictionary."

Joan blushed when she realized her mistake. She should've known he was messing with her, as per usual. It seemed to be his favorite pastime, apart from flirting with any cute barmaids that happened to be within ear shot of his whistles and teasing bandits in the middle of a battle. Though he also seemed to have a soft spot for reading. His nose was once again buried in his book, and he hummed thoughtfully.

"Well, it looks like these three were pretty damn powerful," he remarked, lazily dragging a finger down between the pages. "They might be on Scythe's level, or even stronger. I guess we should be thankful they aren't immortal necromancers."

"Why?" Joan asked. "Were they evil?"

"No." He shook his head. "But, they supposedly formed an alliance known as the Triumvirate and died in the lands to the far east of Albion. I'm guessing East Samarkand judging by the way the book describes steep mountains, tremors beneath the earth, lush forests, and beautiful serene lakes."

"You've been there before?"

"Only once. I was part of an expedition team to search out a group of warrior monks who lived in the mountains for the whereabouts of the Hero Roamer, a holy warrior. We needed someone who could banish a horde of banshees attacking Snowspire Village. Compared to Albion, it was a much different culture. Flowing robes were the attire of choice, and seemingly everyone used crossbows and katanas."

"Sounds like a very strict environment." The blonde shrugged, trying to look at the pages of his book. "Does it mention their deeds at all?"

"Hmmm…aha. Here it is." Qrow pointed to a paragraph in particular. "It says they created three talismans before they died. A gauntlet to channel the most powerful of magic, a pistol that would never miss, and a sword said to cut through even the largest of trolls with ease. Hm, I wonder…?"

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"This sword the book mentions. There could only be a handful of swords in existence it could possibly be." Qrow frowned and stroked the stubble on his chin. "It couldn't be the Sword of Aeons or the Solus Greatsword; the timelines don't match up. Hmm. I wonder if there is anything more about it."

He flicked a couple pages ahead, and chuckled. "There it is. The sword the Hero of Strength wielded was a mighty blade as big as he was and was especially deadly against malevolent beings such as hollow men or banshees, meaning it was a holy sword. Well, that definitely narrows it down quite a bit. Only one sword in existence could be it, now. It's most likely the Archon's Requiem, a weapon blessed by the God of Light Avo himself. If what the book says is true, then the sword has apparently been lost for a few centuries now. Damn, that would be our luck. The pistol is supposedly somewhere in a desert to the south of Albion, in an ancient abandoned temple. The gauntlet though is here in Albion, hidden by…oh, just perfect."

He let out an annoyed groan. "The damn gauntlet is apparently locked away in a vault in Bowerstone Manor, which doesn't exist anymore after it was burned to the ground by the Albion Witchspotters during their execution of Lady Grey."

"Bowerstone Castle is built right on top of where the manor used to stand," Joan replied. "Very good chance the gauntlet is somewhere within the castle itself. There are rooms I never knew how to open within it." _'It would take hours, maybe even days, to find out which locked door in particular it is. Not even Yang's skill with a lockpick could open them.'_

"Really? Well then, after we kick your brother off the throne, I guess we have a castle to explore." Qrow chuckled and snapped the book shut. "Speaking of which, we need to work on your aim. Especially in a combat situation. Not every enemy is going to stand perfectly still and insult you as they fail to hit you. You need to learn how to hit moving targets."

Joan groaned. She had been hoping that he would've forgotten that. "Dammit. Do we have to? Can't it wait until tomorrow?" _'Dammit. I really don't want to spar with him again. He beat me soundly too many times in a row before I managed to actually disarm him.'_ Even though she took a little bit of pride in that, she knew the older and more experienced Hero was holding back during their spar. Even during their fight against Ripper's bandit crew he was holding back, and yet he managed to easily defeat an experienced barbarian like Ripper.

"Nope. Come on, princess. Either you get moving, or I carry you the entire way. Regardless, you're going," Qrow replied, pointing. "Now."

"Ugh. You're impossible to deal with," Joan complained, grudgingly putting one foot in front of the other. "Such a tyrant."

"Keep complaining and we'll be at it for two hours instead of one," Qrow threatened. If there was a door within reach, the blonde was pretty sure she would've crashed her head into it to show her displeasure.

"Fine, fine." She let out a defeated sigh and pulled out her crossbow. "So, where are these targets you claim to have set up?"

"I set them up just behind the inn, like when we sparred the other day," the black-haired man answered, summoning his bow and quiver in a flash of yellow light.

Joan followed him to the clearing, only to pause. It was completely empty, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Um, where are they? Unless they're invisible, I can't see them." _'Why do I have a feeling I walked right into another one of his annoying little japes?'_

"Hm? Oh, right. I forgot." He let out a chuckle and let a strange purple aura surround his fingertips. "Lemme bring them out for you." He cast a spell, and several purple orbs fired from his palm to the ground. The orbs slowly grew into shadowy shapes, with glowing red eyes and thin swords of shadow in their hands.

"W-what are these!?" Joan asked, feeling more than worried as they approached. She already had a bolt for her crossbow loaded in case they leapt at her, and to her surprise they didn't even pay her any mind. Instead, they knelt before Qrow and held their swords over their head as if to honor him.

"Lads, if you may, can you please help the princess here train?" he requested. "She needs to work on her marksmanship, and I figured you are the best for that job."

The shadowy warriors all nodded and stood up, facing Joan with their swords ready.

"Begin," Qrow said.

Joan barely had time to raise her weapon before the shadows leapt at her. "Hey! What's the big idea!?"

"The idea is to teach you that you won't always get the privilege of having your enemy stand perfectly still for you," Qrow replied, his nose back in his book. "Have fun. If you do happen to get hit, try not to scream too loud; I've gotten to a good part."

She rolled to the side and fired, striking the first one squarely in the chest where its heart would be and thinking of many ways to get back at Qrow for this stunt. It disappeared in a burst of magic, but she couldn't relax; four of the mysterious warriors remained, and she fished out another bolt from her pouch to load the weapon again. _'I swear to Avo, when I'm done here I'm going to smack him with that damn book of his!'_

The blonde raised her crossbow to block a powerful swing of a sword, and she slid back a few feet. However, she stayed standing upright, and she used her foot to sweep the leg out of the shadowy creature. It tumbled to the ground and before it could recover, Joan put a crossbow bolt between its eyes.

It disappeared, and she turned her attention to the remaining three. She growled in annoyance as a bolt slipped from her fingers and onto the ground, and she moved out of the way to avoid being cut across her chest. "Dammit! Of all the times!"

Joan shakily drew another bolt from her pouch, focusing her magic solely on creating more of the deadly projectiles. _'Calm down, Joan. You've battled against hollow men and a highly skilled warrior in Raven. You can handle this.'_

The blonde took a breath to steady her nerves. Her hands stopped shaking, and her initial shock was now replaced by the same calm determination that won her the fight against Raven. _'You can do it. You know you can. Now show this old man what you're capable of!'_

Somehow, proving to Qrow she was more than capable of handling something like this was enough to make her resolve burn like the hottest flame and the coldest ice. Joan reloaded her crossbow and fired, her eyes frosty and calm. Her blood was roaring in her ears, and she sidestepped another clumsy attack. She tripped her enemy and let loose with the crossbow, the bolt sinking into the back of its head. _'Only two left. This should be easy enough for me.'_

Joan easily took care of the last two shadowy opponents with two quick shots to the throat, and she lowered her crossbow with a heavy pant. She had worked up one hell of a sweat in that session, and she wanted to nap for the next three years.

"Not bad at all. You did well." Qrow snapped his book shut and nodded in approval. You did really well, considering you've never fought against those before. Heroes have to be able to adapt quickly to their enemy; not every creature that wants to kill you is meant to be a punching bag. Tripping them and using evasive tactics was smart on your part. I like what I see out of you. Keep at it, and you'll soon be on my level."

Joan groaned and let the sweat drip off her like a heavy rain, panting heavily. "What…what were those? I could see them, but they didn't feel alive."

"They're summons," Qrow answered, helping her keep steady. "I focus my magic into the enemies that forced me to grow my power as a Hero. Any Hero can learn it, but it takes a lot of time to master it. Summoning is like any other kind of magic; it gets stronger the more you use it. If you want to learn more…I may be able to help in that regard, too."

Joan's stomach growled hungrily, and she blushed as she clutched it. "C-can it please wait until _after_ we have had something to eat? I'm famished enough to eat a horse if I put my mind to it."

Qrow chuckled. "No problem. I'll buy this time around."

"You may be irritating to deal with on certain days, but right now you're my favorite person in the world," she said. "I think I'm going to need a bath, first."

"Yeah, you are," he agreed. "I doubt you want to have a repugnant odor following you around like a foul cloud."

"Klein? Please tell me—"

"Already prepped for you, madam."

"Thank Avo for that."

Joan was looking forward to having a nice soak.

* * *

In the Sanctuary, Klein was already waiting for her as always. In his hands was a fluffy white towel and a fresh set of clothes, and he handed them to her. "Here you are. The bath is in the dressing room, to the left. Don't worry; I have enough decency to not peek."

Joan laughed and took the pile graciously. "No need for all of that. I trust you enough to not do anything either stupid or rash while I'm cleaning up."

She headed into the dressing room, and it was already filled with steam. She breathed it in deeply, letting it clean out her lungs and enjoying the feel of it on her skin. "Ah…that feels so nice compared to that sparring."

She quickly stripped out of her sweaty and sticky clothes and left them in a pile by the bath before lowering her body into it. The heat of the water felt good on her sore limbs, and she let out a contented sigh. "I need this…"

Joan let most of her body be covered by the hot water, only her head and part of her legs sticking out. How long had it been since she could just relax in a warm bathtub and not have to worry about anything?

Being as far away from her home as she was, she found she really missed this part of the life that had been practically handed to her. She had been surrounded by luxury and wealth from the moment she was born, with her father being the king. She never had to really worry about anything.

She thought of the last time she saw her father, when she was still a young girl of only ten years old. Even in his old age, his eyes always had that youthful sparkle to them and his body was still in formidable shape. It was hard to believe he was as old as he was at the time of his death; his Heroic blood and incredible magical powers made him appear a good thirty years younger.

Even though he was the king he spent as much time with her as he could, reading books to her and finding some way to make her laugh. A smile formed on her face when she remembered one of Logan's birthdays, how her and her father purposely pulled out his chair from underneath him when he went to sit down in the grand dining hall. They laughed about it for days afterward, and even though Logan looked like he wanted to sulk about it, eventually he found it to be as funny as they did.

Joan lingered in the bath for a few extra moments to savor the last bits of warmth before she grudgingly stepped out. It would be rude of her to keep Qrow waiting longer than he needed to; they still needed to reach the Dweller Camp by the end of the day to talk to Sabine.

The blonde princess couldn't help but feel a surge of pride swell in her chest when she thought of what she had been able to do. Only a short time ago she was sitting in the castle unaware of the problems buried underneath the surface of the image Logan painted of the kingdom. Now, she was more than aware of the issues and making the strides to change it. She had the support of Brightwall Village and the soldiers guarding it on her side, Raven and her mercenary tribe, and she was certain the Dwellers now; after all, she had done all the things Sabine requested of her.

She wiped herself down and changed into the clean clothes handed to her, drying her hair and crossing the room over to where the makeup kit she purchased currently sat in front of a large mirror.

Joan opened it and began to apply it to her face, gently brushing it on her cheeks and under her eyes. _'Father, would you be proud of me? Knowing that I possess the same powers as you, and I'm trying to use them as you would despite me going against Logan?'_

' _I honestly don't know how you would feel about this if you were still alive. He may have fallen into the pits of madness and gone slightly insane, but he's still blood. He's still the same brother who always looked out for me.'_

' _Gods, this is maddening. It hurts, even though he's a tyrant and killing our people. Ozpin was not messing around when he said leading the people against Logan would be a greater challenge than earning their trust.'_

She let out a sigh and finished with her application, blinking and staring at her reflection in the smooth polished glass. Her own face shines brightly, and she nods in approval. _'Not bad at all, considering the cost. Cheap, but it got the job done. Can't really find anything to complain about it.'_

Freshly cleaned and clothed, she left the dressing room behind her.

Klein already had a fresh cup of tea waiting for her, giving her a wink. "Here you are, madam. Am I right to assume that you and Qrow will be on your way to the Dweller Camp once you are finished here?"

"Yes." Joan nodded and downed the cup's contents, feeling warm on the inside as well as the outside. "Hopefully when we make it there, he can do us both a favor and not get Port involved in a drinking contest of some sorts. Avo knows he has a problem."

"Indeed he does." Klein chuckled and stroked his large mustache. "I never understood where exactly he got his love of alcoholic beverages from. One day, he just strode into his majesty's study with about two pints of ale in his hands, laughing and drunkenly singing at the top of his lungs for the entire damned castle to hear."

The mental image of her mentor singing incoherent rubbish was enough to make her burst out laughing, tears of mirth stinging her eyes. "P-please tell me that's a joke!" She placed her cup down as to not break it, clutching her sides.

"I'm afraid it's the truth, dear." Klein grinned. "Perhaps when you meet him in the Dweller Camp you can ask him about that particular occasion. I'm sure he'll love to brag about how he bested your father in a drinking contest."

"Did he?"

"Of course not. Port crashed onto the table after the eighth pint. Your father may have not been the biggest man, but he could hold his drink better than even the most weather beaten sea captain. Sailors were jealous of his ability to function even in a state of intoxication."

Joan grimaced and wrinkled her nose. Somehow, she felt like she didn't inherit her father's ability to keep alcohol down. She'd probably throw up after only one or two drinks due to being completely unaccustomed to it.

"I don't think I'm lucky enough to inherit that part of my father's genes," she finally said. Klein chuckled at that.

"Don't worry about it. You're young; it's only natural you would be disgusted by such a thing," he said. "I've seen what it can make people do, and I'm sure you've seen glimpses of it from Qrow in the time you've spent with him."

Joan nodded. She remembered seeing the miserable look in his pale gaze as he sat at the bar drinking whiskey. She knew that he had obviously suffered a devastating loss and was merely waiting for it not to feel so raw and fresh to him, but the man had made strides in her eyes. He had kept his promise of never touching the foul substance again, instead drinking either water or some form of juice. She supposed it was a good sign that his pain was going away little by little.

"Well, I suppose I better get back in town before Qrow decides he wants to sleep with every single barmaid he can get his greedy little hands on." She let out a huff of annoyance. "I swear, the way that man acts, you'd never think he was once the Guildmaster."

"Appearances can be very deceiving, Joan." Her faithful butler winked. "See you soon."

* * *

Once she was back in town, she could hear loud music coming from the inn, and she shook her head as she approached. "Wow. Say what you want about the simple and humble life, but they definitely know how to throw a party."

"Told you that you'd enjoy your time here," Klein quipped.

"That you did, Klein." She smiled and running out from the inn was Zwei. He held a large slice of fresh mutton in his mouth, and he dropped it at her feet before barking happily. Joan knelt down to scratch behind his ears, the corgi moving his head against her hand to get more scratches.

Joan rolled her eyes, but Zwei gave her that wide eyed stare with his tongue lolling out. He was simply too bloody cute to ignore. The blonde let out a sigh of defeat and gave him more ear scratches, her smile never leaving her face. "You know, I'm starting to see what Klein meant. We are indeed a pair to be reckoned with, huh boy?"

Zwei's response was merely to bark at her before diving into his slice of mutton he managed to snag from the inn. Joan gave him a few more pets before standing up. "Well, eat up, Zwei. We have to go back to the Dweller Camp soon." _'Great. That means more cold and those awful bridges that need to be replaced as soon as possible.'_

' _It is for a good cause, though. But the first chance I get as queen, I'm sending out some men to put sturdier bridges in the mountains. Having open trade routes does little good if the merchants fall to their death.'_

The blonde entered the inn, and every single patron raised a mug and cheered when they saw her.

"Hey, cheers lass!"

"Come on, join us and have a pint!"

"You've saved us! Come on love, let us buy you a round!"

Joan blushed from all of the attention directed her way, weaving her way in and out of the crowd in an attempt to get up to the table where Qrow was at. The older Hero made no attempt to help her; instead, his feet were already on the table and he was leaning back in his chair with both hands behind his head, and he laughed at her. Gods, that laughter was contagious, even if she'd never admit it.

"Having a little trouble there, royal supremeness?" he asked teasingly. "I didn't think you'd get so easily flustered being surrounded by a little praise."

"Shut up Qrow." Joan took her seat with a sigh, running a hand through her soft hair. She had barely had enough time to sit down and catch her breath before a barmaid came over with a steaming hot filet mignon pie and a flagon of water.

"For the Hero who brought more than good tidings to Brightwall," she said with a smile.

Joan's mouth watered as the rich aroma floated towards her. It was simply divine and she wasted no time in digging in. She tucked into her meal hungrily, her earlier workout with Qrow making her famished. _'I wish every day could see a meal like this. These are simply delicious.'_

Sadly, she knew she wouldn't always have the luxury of a stupendous homemade meal while she was wandering around Albion; she just happened to be lucky that her first stop had a tavern that she could stay in.

Qrow then had his own order come in, a supreme cut of meat with treated with a hint of thyme and garlic. "Aha, now this is a meal fit for a Hero."

"I'll say," the blonde agreed. The two finished their lunch in a hurry, for they had to get to the Dweller Camp before nightfall. Once they had finished, one of the young men working the bar came around and scooped their plates off their table.

"Alright kiddo, let's get going," Qrow said with a smile. "I bet those people in the camp are going to be really grateful to you."

"Oh, I'm sure they will be." Joan smiled back. "I honestly will love to hear them."

* * *

When Qrow and Joan made it to the Dweller Camp after a three hour hike, the small camp was so much more jovial than the last time Joan visited it. Her first time here, the stench of sorrow and helplessness clung in the air. Now, the Dwellers were cheering and applauding her, hope in their cries.

They had reason to be cheerful now, for they had a Hero who would lead and protect them. They had hope that Logan's rule would be over very, very, soon.

Joan was feeling slightly overwhelmed by all the applause as she made her way through the camp to speak with Sabine, the music box in her hands. _'We actually managed to pull it off. All of their suffering will soon come to an end. No one deserves to live like this, constantly in fear about starving to death and unable to do anything.'_

The old man was smiling as she approached, a lit cigar in his old and knotted hands. "Our Hero returns! Bringing good tidings, and supper!" He chuckled at that last bit, as did Port.

"Told you she was a Hero," the old soldier said smugly as he twirled his massive mustache. "Now, you owe me a pint."

"Yes, you were right. Do yourself a favor and learn to restrain yourself from gloating too much." Sabine rolled his eyes.

Zwei panted heavily next to the princess while she handed the music box to him, and the old man frowned as he shook it. "Damn thing doesn't open. How do...ah well. I honestly never believed you would get the bloody thing, to tell you the truth." He handed it over to Boulder, the mute giant taking it with a nod.

"You have proved yourself to be a good leader and a natural warrior. We have hope again, and you have brought us supplies that will help us out greatly. But before we fight by your side, I want you to make one more promise. Promise to restore these mountains to the former glory, and nothing but the fiercest of justice upon Logan's head!"

"I will. He has to answer for this." Even though her heart ached painfully at the thought of going up against her brother, her mind told her it was an ugly necessity and something that she had to do, in order to protect the people from his tyranny.

Sabine stood up with a cackle, waving his arms and balling his hands into fists. "Then let us be carried to the castle, by the dark storms of fury!"

Thankfully, Port was there to nail some common sense into the old man; he put a hand on his shoulder, making him sit down in his wooden throne. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little longer for that; it's still us up against an entire damn army. We need to recruit more people."

Sabine let out a sigh and gently puffed on his cigar, blowing out a fragrant cloud of smoke. "I was afraid you would come over all logical and sensible. But no matter; we've made an alliance that has brought life back to our humble camp and once again there is hope in the air. We'll just keep on wining and dining until you are good and ready."

He glanced to his right and gave Boulder a hard stare. "Boulder." The giant had been playing with Zwei, and he let out a groan of defeat before standing up.

"Don't keep us waiting too long, now. I would love to ring Logan's pretty little neck before I turn into dust." Sabine chuckled.

"We won't. We'll be back soon."

"Good, good. Now on your way."

Joan turned to leave when a strange portal appeared in front of her, and she sighed. "Well…back to talk to Ozpin." She wondered what the strange seer would have to say about Qrow; surely he would know about him, right?

* * *

Ozpin smiled and twirled his cane in his hands. "You've done well, princess. The rebellion cannot succeed without Sabine and his Dwellers. You have the beginnings of an army now. Your father would be very proud of you."

He went to fade away when Joan put an arm out to stop him. "Wait! Before you go, I have a question!" _'He has to know about him. He just has to.'_

"Yes? What is it?" His voice was calm and a hint of curiosity lingered in his eyes.

"Do…do you know anyone named Qrow?" she asked.

"Qrow?" His eyes widened, and Ozpin let out a sigh of exasperation before gently massaging his temples.

"Dammit. I was hoping I wouldn't have to deal with his nonsense for at least a few more centuries."

"Why? What did he do?" Joan was curious now. Just what could Qrow have done to make the damn Seer of the Spire annoyed at him? _'I suppose the better question is "what didn't he do?". The bastard has issues, I swear.'_

"…do you want the long version or the short version?" he asked with a sigh.

"I have time. Let me hear it." Joan shrugged. "What did he do to make you annoyed?"

"I was once a Hero myself, so many long centuries ago," he explained. "However, unlike others in the Guild, I studied the ways of immortality. I wanted to unlock the secrets of the Archons themselves and achieve everlasting youth. I eventually found it, in the form of an ancient potion created by the ancients said to make whoever drinks it immortal. My life's work, finally about to come to an end. Or at least, until Qrow found it. He…made a few alterations to the potion in an attempt to boost my magical capabilities even more. Needless to say, it didn't bloody work. I had been given the gift of immortality, but at a horrible price. I lost my sight."

Joan took a look at his eyes, and she noticed that they were cloudy and sightless. He was blind. "You…you were blinded?"

"Yes." Ozpin nodded sadly. "It is only thanks to my already powerful magic that I am capable of seeing you as clearly as I can, using your own magical aura to see you."

"Does Qrow know? About you losing your sight, I mean."

"He does. He has expressed nothing but the deepest regret, and yet still I want to sock him in the jaw." He scowled at that. "Only then will I fully forgive him."

"Want me to?" the blonde asked. "I'm pretty sure I can think of a reason for me to hit him."

"By all means. And tell him it's from me when you do." A hint of a petty smirk flashed across his features and the seer started to fade away. "I'll see you soon, Joan."

Joan smirked and stepped back into the portal. She had a certain dusty old man to give a smacking to.

She honestly wanted to see Qrow's face when she did hit him. He'd either be surprised or proud of her.

Something told her to lean towards proud. The old man had a strange way when it came to handling getting hit. Knowing him, he'd enjoy it in his own weird way.

 _ **A/N: And that's it! XD this chapter took a little longer than I originally thought. But now the Mistpeak arc is finally at a close, and we're already at a ridiculous word count XD. Seriously…WTF brain. I don't know how I continually write these long chapters. Hopefully, I can continue like this. See you soon!**_

 _ **C. Strife #5371**_


	9. Farewell to Mistpeak

_**A/N: Well, here's chapter nine. It's been pretty entertaining to write this even though it's much different from my usual playthroughs of Fable…*totally have not spent over three hours sacrificing villagers to the Dark Sanctum. Nope…***_

 _ **Also, I do apologize for the delay. I originally had this combined with the Monorail quest, but I didn't like it and wanted a nice little interlude between the Mistpeak arc and the next one. Enjoy!**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***Farewell to Mistpeak***

When Joan arrived back in the Dweller Camp, the first thing she did was storm over to Qrow and give him a harsh smack on the cheek. The older man's eyes were wide with shock, and he didn't have time to react before his head was sharply jerked to the side.

"Oww…" He let out a groan, rubbing his jaw. "What did I do to deserve that one?"

"For not telling me you knew Ozpin," Joan growled. "Or that you were part of the reason he lost his sight."

"Ozpin's still alive?" Qrow blinked in surprise, his hand dropping away from the red handprint spreading on the side of his face. "Well…that's great news. I'm glad to hear he's doing okay. Let me guess; he told you to hit me?"

"Yes."

"…okay, I kinda deserved that slap then," he admitted, scratching at his stubble. "So, how much did he tell you about himself?"

"Well, he told me he was a Hero, like us," Joan said. By Avo, her hand was starting to sting. Maybe she hit him a little too hard. "One from your era. He said he sought how to make himself immortal and unlock the secrets of the Archons themselves. He found it, in the form of some sort of potion?"

"The Elixir of Immortality." Qrow nodded, and a small handprint began to glow red on his cheek. "However, it was limited. His body would still age. Ozpin, Weaver and I searched for ways to prolong its affects. Weaver however was assassinated at the same time Jaune went to battle Nostro in Lynchfield Graveyard, and all his notes were destroyed. We were only able to salvage a few scraps. Those we did collect mentioned a way to make Ozpin's physical appearance never change. We tried it, and…well, you already know the rest of the story from Ozpin."

" _I think I can rest a little easier knowing you gave him that slap for me,"_ Ozpin muttered in her head. Joan had to suppress a laugh at that. She had no idea that the wise old seer could be so petty when it came to a little bit of payback.

"So, princess, where are we headed to?" Qrow asked, placing his hands behind his head and walking alongside her through the Dweller Camp. Their boots sank into the snow, and Zwei shook several white flurries out of his short fur.

"Port said there was a monorail station just at the bottom of Mistpeak Valley," Joan replied, pulling out her map and pointing. Though…I doubt we'll be able to make it there before dark." It was already late in the afternoon; the sun was well on its way towards the horizon, and they had a lot of ground to cover.

"I hope you don't mind camping." Qrow chuckled and clapped her shoulder affectionately. "Or eating a rabbit or two."

"As long as you sprinkle a little salt on it, I think I'll be fine." Joan smiled and elbowed him in the side gently. "Sorry if I hit you too hard. Ozpin told me to."

" _Traitor,"_ Ozpin grumbled teasingly. Joan rolled her eyes with a huff. She went from one old man only she could hear to two of them. She thought Qrow was enough to give her a headache on the best of days as a gnome, but having Ozpin make remarks in her head now? She wasn't sure if she should count herself blessed to gain their wisdom and knowledge or unlucky, given how childish and petty the two of them could secretly be.

' _Well, isn't this just fantastic? Now there's two of them,'_ the blonde thought dryly, sighing. _'I just hope to the gods they don't try and mess with me together. I don't think my brain could handle it.'_

" _I'm almost offended, Joan."_ By Avo, Joan could practically see him smirk at her. _"Do you really think I would resort to such childish and petty games like that?"_

Joan gave up when she heard him laughing in her head. Yep, this was going to be one long journey, and she was not looking forward to dealing with both of their nonsense. She was just glad that Ozpin's physical form was still in another dimension for now.

"Don't worry about it, Blondie. Like I said, I'm at least partially responsible for Ozpin losing his sight." He rubbed his cheek, amusement in his pale eyes. "You got a good slap, too. I'm impressed."

Joan shook her head with a sigh, and she stopped in front of one of the many market stands in the camp. "Do you think we should pick up some supplies while we're here?" _'We'll be camping out tonight. Zwei isn't going to be happy about that.'_

Qrow nodded and fished around in his pockets for a bag of gold. "Yeah. Don't worry too much about food; I can hunt and fish for us. I just need a fishing rod, a tent, and an axe. After that, we'll be good to go."

"Why would you need an axe?" Joan asked, looking at the wares currently on sale. A pretty piece of jewelry caught her eye, but she grimaced at the hefty four thousand gold price tag that came with it. The necklace was beautiful, with a single polished diamond in the center of expertly treated gold. It was clearly not something any poor old beggar could easily get their hands on.

"Um, where did you find that?" she asked the merchant, an elderly man with a long grey knotted beard and a heavy amount of wrinkles under his grey eyes.

"Ah, a young man in a black coat gave it to me a few days ago," he replied in a gravelly tone. "Said he was looking for some painter named Thomas Kaidkin or something like that. I pointed him in the direction of Brightwall, and he handed me this as payment for the information. Haven't seen him since."

' _Thomas Kaidkin? But he was the painter that was murdered!'_ Joan looked over at Qrow, but the older Hero was idly browsing through a selection of fishing rods and was currently occupied. She looked back at the merchant. "What did he look like?"

"Hmm. Tall, pale, windswept red hair with a hint of brown underneath. Wore a mask over part of his face. Polite young man, though. Had a beautiful katana on his belt," the old man answered. "He probably went to the capital, Bowerstone."

' _Damn! That was the assassin!'_ she realized with a start. _'We're already at least a week behind him.'_ The bastard had already escaped and was lying low to avoid rousing the suspicion of the guards. At least now she knew what he looked like, should their paths cross.

"Thank you. Do you happen to have an axe?" she asked.

"Why, yes I do!" the merchant said proudly, turning to a small wooden workbench behind him and picking up a woodcutter's axe. "Just had it sharpened two days ago. You should have no problem cutting firewood with it, and all this for a mere seventy five gold coins."

' _Considering how much we'll be using it when we're on the road, I think it is definitely worth it.'_ "I'll take it." Joan fished around in the pockets of her skirt and pulled out the necessary gold to pay for it, and the merchant handed her the axe in return. She hefted it with a grimace, not used to its weight. Though she had certainly gotten stronger since unlocking her Hero powers, something of this weight was still a little cumbersome and bulky in her hands. It would likely take at least a week or two before her muscles were able to adapt to it.

Qrow had selected a beaten up fishing rod, giving it a nod of approval. "Hey, how much for this one?"

"That one?" The old man turned to look at it, and he frowned. "Hmm. That one is rather cheap. Only ten gold. My father bought it from a trader named Murgo, about fifty years ago. There's a legend about that fishing rod; it was apparently the one used by the Hero of Oakvale to open the secret path to the Bargate Prison some five hundred years ago. Sounds like a load of rubbish if you ask me."

Joan took a look at it, and she was stunned by the magical aura radiating from it. It was practically glowing in her eyes and she was forced to take a step back from it. _'It's powerful. That man has no idea what he's stumbled on.'_ She didn't know all of the details of how Jaune managed to open the old graveyard path to Bargate, but something told her Qrow was going to tell everything he could.

"Well, here you go." Qrow handed the merchant the necessary gold for the rod and looked at a small tent. "How much for that?"

"Sixty eight gold."

"Here you are."

"Thank you for your custom. Best of luck on your travels." The merchant gave them a friendly wave, and the two Heroes left him behind.

Joan glanced at Qrow and he nodded, catching her eye. "Yeah, I feel it too. This is indeed the rod Jaune Arc once used. I'll tell you the full story once we're set up for the night, okay?"

"Sure." She shrugged. "I just want to get a move on. The assassin who killed Thomas Kaidkin is already in Bowerstone." _'What if he kills someone else? How can I protect my people from someone I can't even catch?'_

"Are you still worried about that?" Qrow asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Joan, I know you're not going to like it, but I'll say it anyway. You can't save everyone, even if you want to. It's one of the harshest lessons you'll need to learn if you want to become ruler."

Joan froze. His words were eerily similar to Logan's, in a way. He wanted to show her that wearing the crown was a burden he didn't wish on anyone, and now Qrow was saying the same sort of words he would. If anything though, Qrow was much more gentle than her brother. His tone was sympathetic as well as firm.

"You know, my brother once said the same thing," Joan said quietly. "Before I set out on this rebellion. He said the crown was a heavy burden that he was growing to resent."

"It does take a toll on one's mind," Qrow agreed. "That's true. It's important as a ruler to love your subjects, and defend them with your very life. But you have to deal with reality. There will be times of crisis and moments where you will have to do things you may resent."

Joan let out a sigh and slung the axe over her shoulder, carrying it by the base of the handle. They had a long way to go before they were ready to march on the capital. They had the beginnings of an army, not nearly enough to take on thousands of elite soldiers. Trying to do so would be suicide.

"You know, I hate it when you're right sometimes," she said finally after they made their way to the end of the camp. The wind that howled through the peaks remained steady, whistling in the air and making the princess shiver. _'Still not used to the damn cold.'_

Zwei gave a quiet whine next to her and she crouched down to give him a few pets. "I know, I know. You hate the cold just as much as me." _'I'll be happier when we're a little further down the mountains and near Raven's camp. It isn't as cold down there.'_

"You better get used to dealing with the weather, princess," Qrow said. "Not every day is going to be warm and sunny. A lot of Albion is much different from Bowerstone. Take Knothole Island, for instance. It's usually raining six days a week, or at least it was when I was around."

"Seriously? How's the island not completely submerged by this point?" she asked.

"Dunno." He shrugged, wiping a bit of snow off of his shoulders. "I've been away for almost five hundred years, remember? I'm not exactly up to date with current events. You'd have a better idea of what happened than I would."

Joan couldn't really remember what her father told her about the island when he went to solve its weather issues, some forty seven years ago, but she was certain he mentioned a shop filled with unique weapons and other special items that were only found there. "I can't remember anything about my father's expedition to it." _'Nothing at all, apart from that shop he told me about.'_ She was probably too young at the time to really pay attention to the story, and right now she wished she had.

"Well, there's certain to be some sort of tome lying around that tells the tale of what happened. Don't worry about it too much." Qrow raised a hand to block out the brief rays of the sun that poked through the thick pillow of the clouds, whistling. "Well, damn. We have a long way to go, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes." Joan noticed the axe suddenly disappear from her hands and she looked at the Guild Seal. "Thank you, Klein. I was wondering how I'd scale down a mountain with that in my hands." _'What would I do without him?'_

"My word, this thing is quite heavy," he grunted. "I'll be sure to keep this in the Sanctuary until the need for you to use it arises. How far is Port ahead of you?"

"He's got a few hours on us at the least," Qrow replied. "We're camping overnight by the lake; that way we'll be nice and fresh for the final leg of the journey."

The slippery slopes were beginning to thaw out, a sign of the approaching spring, and Joan grimaced as muddy water splashed on her legs. It was icy on her skin and she shivered, hugging her cloak tighter around her. _'As pretty as this region is, I've had enough of the damned cold.'_

Joan led the way down the mountains, digging her boots into the soft mud and slush to make sure she didn't slip; one careless tumble was all she needed to plummet off the worn trail and to her doom. _'It's even more hazardous than when I first came through here. Springtime approaching or not, these mountains have a way of being consistently fraught with danger.'_

The blonde placed her hand on an icy rock jutting out from the slowly melting snow, the hard surface biting away at her nerves. Its jagged edges pressed deep, not deep enough to draw blood, but deep enough for it to be more than uncomfortable.

She looked over her shoulder to see how Qrow was faring during their descent, and she was not at all surprised to see the man effortlessly ducking under tree branches while reading another book he picked up from the Brightwall Academy.

"Really? Even at a time like this, you're reading?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Hey, I got to a good part," he protested, dipping his head low enough to let a tree limb gently brush his messy hair. "This one's about the Hero known as Huw the Giant. A beast of a man with a sword called Harbinger, who thrust the blade deep into a rock at the Temple of Avo. I remember seeing the many men who tried to take the damn thing out, only to fail time and time again."

"Why did he put a sword in a rock?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Blondie. He died twenty years before I was born. The sword is said to give its user incredible physical benefits, such as increased stamina."

Joan smirked and took the opportunity to make a joke at his expense. "I dunno, it sounds perfect for you. I'm sure someone of your age is lacking stamina in certain aspects." _'I'm definitely going to end up getting tossed around during a sparring match again. But it is worth it, just to poke a little fun about his age.'_

" _Ouch. That one stings,"_ Ozpin said with a wince, chuckling. _"Careful, Joan. You really don't want to poke the sleeping dragon too hard. One more jab about his…performance, and Qrow will literally attempt to bed you to prove his point. How do you think he got together with Winter?"_

"Who's Winter?" Joan blinked in confusion. That wasn't a name she recognized, and Qrow's face suddenly paled. It had a personal connection to him, and Joan put two and two together. Winter was the name of his previous lover, the one he had watched get torn to shreds by balverines.

' _It's her. The reason he ended up drinking and becoming cursed was because of her death.'_ She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him, but she didn't know what words to say. It was all too easy for her to say the wrong thing and get him even more distressed than he already was; it took a lot for him to dig himself out of his downward spiral of drinking and misery.

"Qrow…" Joan looked away, feeling guilty about being so damn careless. "I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"I know." Qrow stopped her before she could go on a miniature guilt trip. "Oz, kindly refrain from telling Joan things she doesn't need to know. I don't need the princess going on a guilt trip now."

"I wasn't—"

"You were," Qrow interrupted. "You were going to be falling over your own feet apologizing for something that isn't your fault." He stopped when a pair of loud howls echoed from around a slippery bend in the mountain trail, and he grumbled under his breath as he summoned his bow. "Wolf pack ahead. Damn things are persistent, I'll give them that."

Joan's icy hands found her crossbow, and she shivered as she loaded a deadly bolt into the projectile weapon. Even though the sun had long since set on them, crossbows were still deadly weapons in the right set of hands. They were popular amongst a group of balverine hunters several years ago called the Silver Hand, who dedicated their very existence to ridding Albion of the hideous monsters. They were eventually wiped out, as even they were unable to stop the never ending assault of the werewolf-like beasts.

But the people of the village of Silverpines never forgot their acts of selflessness and courage in desperately keeping the villagers alive, holding off the horde despite being massively outnumbered.

"Qrow, how difficult are balverines to defeat in battle?" she asked. "I ask because I know we'll eventually come face to face with them, and I don't want to be caught unawares."

Qrow finished readying an arrow in his bow and held it tightly by his side. "The thing to remember about balverines is this: when there's one, there's usually a whole pack around. They're territorial by nature and usually travel in packs of four or five, led by a single alpha white balverines. Normal ones are fast, agile, and strong, but they typically aren't that bright. It's very easy to outsmart them. White balverines, on the other hand, are people who were bitten by one and have let the beast inside them take over their mind. Not only are they much stronger than regular balverines, but they're also much smarter since they were once human. As far as I know, only weapons with a silver augment in them can seriously harm one."

"Silver? Really? Then how come the Silver Hand was able to keep entire hordes at bay with old crossbows and longswords?"

"Who?"

"A group of balverine hunters who lived in Silverpines, some five or six years ago," Joan explained. "My brother had me meet them once, when I was just a kid. They were responsible for keeping the village safe."

"Damn, Albion really has changed, hasn't it?" Qrow murmured. "A nearly five hundred year nap seems like a long time to be asleep for."

Another howl pierced the whistling of the wind, and the older Hero grinned as a wolf foolishly charged at him. "Big mistake." His bow snapped up and he loosed an arrow. It soared true and struck the creature between the eyes, killing it instantly. He didn't have time to revel in his kill as the rest of the pack charged at him with vengeful snarls, their eyes gleaming with anger and starvation.

Joan fired her crossbow at the one closest to her, hitting it in the flank. It yelped in pain, flopping on its side, and Zwei charged at it with an angry bark. His blow sent the wolf tumbling off the frozen cliff to its doom, making the blonde feel more confident in her capabilities. _'Come on. It's not like you're fighting Raven again. It's a simple wolf pack. Nothing two Heroes can't easily take care of.'_

She grabbed another bolt and loaded it in, taking a deep breath before aiming. _'Aim on the inhale, fire on the exhale.'_ She let it out, and the bolt soared true. It struck the pack leader in the throat just beneath its jaw, and it let out a gurgled deathly cry of shock as it tumbled to the snowy ground in a heap of bloodstained fur. She had gotten lucky and hit an artery, making the creature bleed out quickly. Waves of scarlet splashed onto the snow to paint it an ugly light red, and soon the wolf's body stopped twitching.

The two remaining wolves shared an uneasy look, as if debating whether or not to continue fighting, but before they could do anything Qrow's hands glowed with fire and he cast a devastating spell. Waves of fire roared out like a ripple, incinerating the creatures at once. They didn't even have time to cry out before the ravenous flames devoured them, turning them to nothing more than two small piles of ashes.

"Wow," Joan whispered in amazement. "What…what spell was that? I've never seen anything like it."

"It's called Divine Fury," Qrow replied, his hands falling by his side. "The caster focuses their magical power into a single surround spell that will scorch anything it hits. It's also called Archon's Cleansing due to it being extremely effective against undead and banshees."

"Do you…do you think you could teach me how to use it?" she asked.

"Blondie, this isn't the kind of spell you learn overnight." Qrow shook his head. "Even Jaune took three years to master it. It's very hard to use, even for the most magically gifted Heroes. Maze himself couldn't use it very often, and he was regarded as possibly the most powerful wizard in the Guild."

"…so is that a yes or a no? You didn't exactly specify."

Joan winced as his hand came over the top of her head. "Ow." _'Try to use his own tactics against him, and he cuffs me over the head for it.'_

' _Remember, when I become the queen I can make him my personal servant.'_ She hid her smirk behind her arm, conveniently coughing to hide her face from view. _'Have him at my beck and call whenever I so desire to get back at all of the times he tried flirting with me.'_ Joan definitely liked the sound of that, and she'd let him win this round if it meant getting back at him tenfold later. By Avo, she could practically see the look of shock and horror on his face when the time came for her payback to rear its scaly head.

" _Already dreaming of the day you can get back of him?"_ Ozpin asked in amusement. _"Be careful; Qrow is much wilier than he looks. He has been known to talk his way out of many difficult situations using his Guile ability. It's essentially a way to make himself…more charismatic, so to speak."_

The seer's voice startled her for a moment; she still wasn't used to hearing Ozpin's voice in her head or feeling his presence, and she put her hands on her hips and sighed. "By Avo, you nearly gave me a bloody heart attack. Don't do that again." _'Something tells me he's not just a wise old seer. He has a certain air of mystery about him, like he's hiding something from me.'_

" _My apologies. I'm certain our magical link will take some time getting used to. I won't make a habit of this, I promise. My responsibilities to the Spire keep me somewhat occupied for vast portions of my time. Not like such a thing as time has any meaning to me now,"_ he quipped. Joan could detect a hint of sadness in his tone, almost as if he resented his gift of immortality and wished to finally pass on to the afterlife if such a thing existed.

The narrow trail reached the pair of rickety wooden bridges spanning the gorges, and the blonde took a deep breath before she began to cross over it. _'Hold it together, Joan. You've crossed it plenty of times before. One more time isn't going to hurt you.'_

Zwei whined at her feet, his small teeth nibbling at her boots. He didn't like the way the bridge creaked and groaned under his paws, and the princess scooped him up into her jacket. "Come on. I'll carry you over." _'If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's starting to get used to me carrying him like some sort of spoiled child.'_ Zwei barked happily at her once he was in her arms and in her jacket.

Yep, he was getting way too comfortable.

Joan crossed the bridge carefully, refusing to jerk her gaze away from in front of her whenever the thin wooden planks groaned and swayed in the breeze. One look was all it usually took for a careless traveler to lose their balance and plummet to their death. _'Don't look down, don't look down…'_

"Heh, I have rather fond memories of this place," Qrow said with a chuckle, his hands behind his head as he followed her over the first bridge. "Getting to see the first peek of your—"

"Qrow, you have five seconds to shut up before I do horrible things to your backside," Joan threatened, eyes glinting with deadly promise. Her cheeks were a faint shade of pink as she thought of the incident when she had to open up her coat and exposed part of herself to him while he was a drunken perverted garden gnome. Even now, she still hated that stupid pointed hat he once wore on his head.

"Now who's the one with no sense of humor?" he asked cheekily. He dodged another clumsy and predictable open handed strike from the blonde, sticking his tongue out at her in his usual childish manner. "Ha! Too slow, Blondie!"

"That does it!" She let out a growl and let Zwei out of her arms so she could chase him. "Get over here!"

She chased him down the less slippery parts of the mountain with Zwei bounding alongside her, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Even though the ice wasn't as thick, the melting snow and slush meant she still lost her balance trying to get him. Joan's eyes widened in shock as she started to fall face forwards onto the ground when Qrow caught her in the nick of time. His hand grabbed firmly on her arm and he tugged her upright with a grunt of exertion.

"Easy there," he warned. "You need to pay attention to where you're going. Won't always have me to save you from a nasty fall, you know."

"I get it," she grumbled, dusting a bit of wet snow off from her clothes. "And this is for earlier." She gave him a light thump in the ribs, and like she expected he merely laughed it off.

"What, you can battle a heavily skilled mercenary leader like Raven no problem, but a little compliment on your beauty is enough to make you stumble your own two feet like a toddler?" he asked. He shook his head, ruffling his messy black hair. "I think someone needs to get used to it. People are going to find you attractive in life."

"Yeah, but I seriously doubt they are going to say something about my body every ten minutes like you do, you lecherous old bastard," she shot back. She very rarely swore, mainly out of fear of her brother scolding her harshly whenever a particularly foul word left her lips. He would say how such a rude and appalling manner of speaking was beneath them and unfitting for royalty, and that if he ever caught her using those words again she'd get more than just a scolding.

"Hey, I'm not that bad," Qrow objected, looking taken aback by her accusation. "You make me out like I'm some perverted old drunk who flirts with every female he sees."

" _And you do,"_ Ozpin muttered. _"I haven't forgotten the giant brawl you caused in Oakvale after having a massive orgy in one of the spare rooms."_

Joan covered her ears, blushing hard. "Ozpin! Can you not!? I really, really don't want to picture him naked. At all." _'That's not an image I'm going to be able to forget for awhile.'_

" _Apologies. It was a mere slip of the tongue, I assure you,"_ he said with no hint of an actual apology behind his words.

"Yeah, Oz. Do us a favor and stop trying to corrupt the princess by telling her less than pleasant stories about a time I'd sooner forget," Qrow chimed in, grinning the entire time. Joan buried her head in her hands with an annoyed groan, kicking a pile of snow at the older man.

"For the love of Avo, please shut up," she pleaded. "You two are going to drive me insane." Qrow laughed at that and gave her a lazy wink, which was met by another groan.

She wasn't sure how she wasn't reduced to a whimpering mess from his antics yet, but she had a feeling that sooner or later she was going to crack and finally lose her bloody mind because of him.

"Hey, I keep you on your guard, don't I?" Qrow asked rhetorically. "I've taught you quite a bit in the week or so I've been out and about. I've taught you how to use your head in battle and how to improve your marksmanship by putting you against moving targets."

Joan couldn't deny that nor would she deny that there was a certain aspect of him that was quite charming. He had a certain charisma to him that made others feel more at ease around him. She wasn't sure if it was part of his magic or not, but his presence did make her feel more comfortable. _'He's still annoying. Don't forget that.'_

Zwei suddenly let out a loud bark, and he ran over to a pair of thick bushes. He started scratching away at the dirt, and Joan followed him to see he had unearthed a ring of some kind. It wasn't made of the most precious of medals, but one could easily be enticed by its beauty. It was a band of solid silver with a small amethyst in the middle of it, and it could fetch a decent price if sold to the right person.

The corgi pushed it over to the blonde with his nose and she pocketed it for later. "Good find." _'I can sell this for some gold pieces in the next town we come across.'_

They were now at the bottom of the mountains, and Joan could see Raven's mercenary camp in the distance across the lake. The thick lush forest was thin in some spots, evidence of Logan using it as a source of lumber, and Qrow hummed as he pointed to a nice clearing between a pair of trees close to the lake. "Over there is a good spot to make camp. Go ahead and get the tents ready."

Joan nodded and headed over to the clearing he pointed to, taking the tent from him and getting it set up. It only took her a few minutes to get everything propped up properly, and once she was finished she went over to the lake to see what exactly Qrow was doing.

The Hero was leaning casually against a rock with his fishing rod in the water, giving it a lazy tug every once in a while to make sure his bait was still on it.

"Any luck?" she asked, taking a seat next to him.

Qrow put his hand up when his rod shook a bit, and with one mighty heave he lifted a bright silver fish from the water. The dimming sunlight made its scales sparkle in the air, and he caught the line near where the fish's mouth was with a satisfied grin. "Well, there's dinner. Nice to see I haven't lost my touch."

"You made it look easy." Joan wasn't sure she'd ever get good at fishing like Qrow or Jaune. "How long has it been since you last did that?"

"Hmm…probably a few years before I was Guildmaster," Qrow answered after a few seconds. "It was a good pastime. Nothing quite like sitting around for hours bantering with Jaune and trying to see who'd catch the most fish in an hour."

"Some Heroes you were." Joan smirked. "What, did old age catch up with you?"

"Haha. Very funny." Qrow rolled his eyes. "No, we needed something to do other than fight monsters, or in Jaune's case, ruthlessly shag his wife on a daily basis. This was what we came up with. Good way to let the hours go by."

He pulled the hook out of the fish's mouth and went over to where Joan had pitched the tent. Once he took a seat he pulled out a small knife from his boots to begin preparing it. "I'll prepare us a meal. Sorry it isn't a gourmet dinner fit for royalty, but it'll keep us from starving. Gather some firewood, will ya?"

Joan was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

After maybe thirty or so minutes, Joan returned to their campsite with her arms laden with bits of firewood. Sweat was rolling down her cheeks and she was huffing a little from using the heavy axe, and she dumped her burden in a pile near a small pit Qrow dug out. "Is this enough?"

Qrow looked up from finishing preparing the fish he caught, and he nodded. "Yep. We'll have no problem keeping warm tonight. Good work, princess. Take a rest. You've earned it."

"Gladly." Joan plodded over to her tent and flung herself onto the small bedroll inside. It was much smaller and less comfortable than she was used to, but right now it was heavenly. Her limbs and back ached from constantly swinging the axe to get firewood, and she groaned as she rolled over onto her back. "Does being a Hero mean constantly having to do this kind of rubbish?" _'My back is going to be sore in the morning.'_

"If you don't have a place to stay, then yes," Qrow answered, using his fire magic to start a campfire for them. "The life of a Hero isn't always filled with glory. Sometimes, you have to do this if you want to survive."

"Fantastic," Joan groaned, rubbing her sore shoulders. "I'm eagerly looking forward to it." Qrow only chuckled at her pained sarcasm.

It didn't take long before the soft crackling of the fire and the pleasant smell of food being cooked started to lull the blonde to sleep. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and they started to droop when she felt a hand rousing her.

"Rise and shine, princess. Dinner is ready."

"Five more minutes," she pleaded, clutching Zwei's sleeping form close to her like a child did to a teddy bear.

"Oh, you want me to eat all of it? Okay then." Qrow smirked.

Joan bolted up immediately, scowling at him. She wouldn't put it past him to eat the entire fish by himself, and her stomach growled at her. "Don't even think about it."

"Then come on, Blondie. Eat it while it's still warm."

Joan picked herself up and walked over to a makeshift seat Qrow fashioned out of a tree stump, sitting down and taking a bite of their meal. It was served plain, yet the meat was still juicy and filled with natural flavor. She quickly devoured it when she realized how hungry she was, and the blonde wiped her mouth with a cloth.

"Thanks, Qrow. Not sure how well I'd do out here by myself," she said gratefully.

"Don't mention it, princess." Qrow winked. "Now, go ahead and get some sleep. You look dead on your feet."

"But—"

"That's an order, Joan. Get going."

Joan was too tired to realize that he actually used her name for once instead of one of his awful nicknames for her.

 _ **A/N: And that's all for this one. Bit of a shorter chapter than usual, I'll admit. But I promise to make it up to you all with the next update, which shouldn't take anywhere near as long XD. See you all soon!**_

 _ **C. Strife #5371**_


	10. The Burdens of the Past

_**AN: Chapter 10, folks. For this one, I'm opening with introducing another RWBY face then we'll do some more training before we get into the next arc. Seriously, that part of the game…fuck that shit lol. Good for exploring, but it just feels so damned long. I was gonna do the Monorail quest, but I decided against it as it would've doubled the word count, and I want to take a lot of time detailing it properly.**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***The Burdens of the Past***

Logan rubbed his temples, trying to ease the headache that had plagued him for more than four years. The weight of the crown on his head was a great burden, and for possibly the millionth time he wondered how his father dealt with such stress with a smile.

Then again, King Sparrow never had to deal with monsters from the Void, such as the Crawler. That hideous monstrosity born in the shadows, with six black eyes that gleamed with the purest of hatred for anything living, had nearly killed him when he went on the expedition to Aurora. Every man and woman he took with him was taken by the darkness, and he was lucky that an Auroran priest gathering rare flowers stumbled across his limp form in the Shifting Sands Desert to the south of the city.

He remembered when he woke up in Aurora and took a walk through the city's desolate streets, the stench of the dead filling his nose no matter where his head turned. Aurora was nothing more than a city of nightmares. It was a doomed land.

Logan felt a twinge of guilt. He had promised the Auroran people that he would save them from the Crawler, that he would return with an army and slay the demon. He had never returned to the desert city. By Avo, he wasn't sure if Aurora was even still standing; for all he knew, it could have been swallowed by the darkness. He couldn't fight it. He wasn't a Hero, like his sister.

' _Joan…'_ For possibly the tenth time today, he wondered how his little sister was faring. He knew she had left the castle with Klein and Port; he knew all about the catacombs lying beneath the castle garden and wasn't surprised to find it open. He could sense her potential for years; she carried their father's blood, even if her powers weren't unlocked at the time.

She needed to become the queen if Albion were to have a chance against the Crawler and the darkness it brought. He knew Joan would be a better leader than he could ever hope to be. He wasn't fit to be the king anymore.

Logan took the crown off of his head and set it down on his bedside table, running one of his calloused hands over it. He may have been royalty, but he was still an adventurer at heart. He could feel that side of him begging to ditch the castle and go out exploring Albion again, to visit the famous Sandgoose tavern in the farming village of Oakfield and unwind.

A faint smile formed on his face as he recalled his first experience trying their special brew. Their rum was very potent and many of the men he brought with him were unable to handle such strong alcohol. For Logan, however, he seemed to have inherited his father's amazing alcohol tolerance. He was still functioning even after half a dozen bottles, while his men were either slumped in their chairs unconscious or getting into drunken brawls for trying to lay in bed with a farmer's wife.

He never got tired of hearing the innkeeper singing his father's praises, all while a local bard performed a song about how King Sparrow singlehandedly saved them all from the evil Temple of Shadows and destroyed the horrible cult. Sparrow deserved every bit of praise that was sent his way; he was the perfect Hero. Kind, honorable, just, and fiercely protective of his land. He would die before allowing his people to come to harm. Even in his old age, he was always the warrior, dashing between his enemies and cutting them to ribbons with the grace of someone half his age.

Logan thought to the times he would watch Port and Joan spar, before they left the castle. Port was always a demanding teacher, never accepting excuses of any kind. Every time Logan would come down to observe, he would always be surprised of that determined glow that shone in Joan's eyes even when she was losing. That kind of willpower was rare to see, especially for someone as young as her. She hadn't even seen her eighteenth birthday, and yet out there in the wilds, she could very easily meet her doom.

' _No. She's doing fine. I know she is. Port will keep her safe, if he needs to. Joan was always someone who could take care of herself, even if the odds were stacked against her.'_ Logan had no doubt Joan would gain followers to her cause; his spy network across Albion had already confirmed to him that both the Dweller Camp and Brightwall Village were now supporting her.

It was more than just a simple rebellion. It was a revolution, and he knew he would be overthrown by the end of it. He wanted to be rid of the throne; he was no longer fit to call himself the king.

He heard a knock on the doors to the royal suite, and he lifted himself from his bed to see who it could possibly be. A quick glance out of the large windows told him it was still in the very early hours of the morning; the cloudless sky was now a very faint smudge of indigo, meaning that dawn was not far off now. _'I wonder who it is. I'm not expecting any visitors at this time.'_

"Who is it?" he asked wearily, rubbing the circles that seemed to be permanently etched under his eyes in a vain attempt to make himself look more presentable.

"Your majesty, it's me. I've returned," came the reply from the other side. Logan would know that voice anywhere.

' _So, he's back. I guess that means he was successful.'_ Logan stood up and strode towards the door, unlocking it to let in a young man with windswept red hair and a black coat. Adam Taurus, the royal assassin. The assassin's blue eyes were hidden behind a small white porcelain mask that covered the top half of his face, and his black katana was in his hands.

"Adam. It's good to see you," he said, stifling a yawn.

"Apologies. Did I wake you?" Adam asked. "If you need your rest, I can always wait until later to give you my report."

Logan shook his head. "No. I wasn't able to sleep much tonight, anyway. An early start won't hurt me. What was the situation?"

"Your information was correct," Adam said, pulling out a small map marked with meeting places as well as what appeared to be scheduled gold stops. "Thomas Kaidkin was indeed giving supplying gold and scavenged weaponry to the Ripper bandit gang in Mistpeak, as well as information about the local guards. Needless to say, I took care of the situation as efficiently as I could. He won't be a nuisance any longer."

"Excellent work. One less traitor to worry about." Logan was very pleased with the outcome, not that he had any doubt Adam would fail; the man was deadly in the art of the blade. With that damned spy gone, it was only a matter of time before they could make a move on the bandit crew themselves. "What about Ripper?"

"He's already been taken care of. By your sister, no less," Adam replied smoothly. "Our spy network has confirmed that Ripper's bounty has been collected. I imagine that this means the region's inhabitants now support her."

"It does," the king agreed. _'Well done, Joan. You're proving yourself to be more than just a princess. You're becoming the leader this country so desperately yearns for. I'm proud.'_

"There's one more thing, sir. She's not alone. A man is traveling with her, carrying a sword far larger than anything I've seen," Adam continued. "Should I interfere?"

' _A man travelling with her? Who the bloody hell could that be?'_ Logan frowned. "No. For now, see what you can find out about this mysterious addition. They'll be on their way to Bowerstone fairly shortly, I believe. Once they are within the capital, I would like for you to test her. See how far she's come, and how much further she has to go."

"As you command, my king." Adam bowed his head and turned sharply on his heel, closing the door behind him to leave Logan alone in his chambers once more.

Logan strode over to his bed, climbing under the exquisite silk sheets and burying himself in their warm depths. He still had a few hours before he had royal matters to attend to, and he could afford to catch what little sleep he could until then. _'This is an unloved position. I hope Joan is indeed ready for this burden when the time comes.'_

The king closed his weary eyes and fell into yet another dreamless sleep.

* * *

Joan woke up to the sensation of a boot gently prodding her side, and the blonde princess groaned in annoyance and tried to hug her blanket closer to her. "Go away, Klein…"

"Rise and shine, Blondie," a low voice gently commanded, continuing to prod at her. "We have to get a move on now."

Joan's eyes twitched, still closed. There's no way Klein would use such a ridiculous and childish nickname for her. He was far too polite and proper. Speaking in such a callous manner was simply unimaginable. In fact, not even Port would talk to her like that. The only one who would do such a childish thing was...

Oh, right. Qrow.

Joan groaned and reluctantly blinked her eyes open, giving Qrow her best glare as she sat up from her sleeping bag. The sun had barely risen on the horizon, its gentle rays just brushing over the lake and creating a scene worthy of a painting. However, that didn't mean she enjoyed being woken up the way she was. "Really, Qrow? Did you have to wake me up at the crack of dawn?"

The older Hero was already wide awake and he held his bow in his hands. "Yes. I need you to start working on getting our campsite cleared while I finish up cooking. I let you sleep an hour later than I did."

"Wow, I'm so grateful for that." Joan rolled her eyes with a huff and rubbed under her eyes to get the sleep out of them. "I'm unable to contain it."

"Less complaining, more being awake. Otherwise I'll eat all of the delicious deer I managed to catch this beautiful morning," Qrow threatened.

For a minute, the princess was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep just to spite him. However the scent of freshly cooked meat started to waft towards her and her stomach let out a loud growl of protest, forcing her to sit up. She didn't realize how hungry she actually was until the smell reached her nose. _'That smells really good. Dammit. I guess I'll sleep when I get a chance to.'_

"Ugh, fine." Joan stretched her arms high above her head, her shirt riding up to expose her stomach. "I'm coming, I'm coming. You are a pain in my backside, Qrow. I hope you know that."

"You say that now. I guarantee you that in a few months, you'll be thanking me for this," Qrow shot back with his usual smirk. "Besides, before we go and meet Port at the station, I wanted to get some training done after we finish eating. A Hero can never have too much practice when it comes to trying to hone their powers, and you could always use it."

"You're acting like I don't know how to use my magic," Joan said with a huff, sitting down on a log to eat. The coarse bark rubbed the back of her legs, and she adjusted herself to make her seat a little more comfortable.

"You do know what you're doing, I'll give you that much," Qrow conceded, pulling the deer off the fire and cutting off a large chunk of cooked meat for her. "But you're definitely no master mage. You haven't even tried using your Time Control spell in a way apart from slowing down everything."

"What, you mean there's more to it than just that?" Joan sighed and dug into the tender meat, practically salivating at the taste. As much of a pain as he was, he definitely knew how to cook. Not that she'd ever admit it to him. _'How did he learn to do all of this?'_

"Oh yes." The older Hero nodded. "You see, you've been using Time Control in a surround manner, slowly down everything to give you an advantage. However, there's a nice little effect if you use it the same way you use your Shock spell. You'll speed yourself up to the point where it looks like you teleported, giving you the ability to take your enemy by surprise by suddenly appearing behind them."

Joan was tempted to groan. Her magical reserves were nowhere near as big as Qrow's or even her father's. "Sounds nice." _'I can barely use it in a surround manner for more than five seconds. How the hell am I going to be able to use it like that?'_

"You're damn right it is." Qrow smirked and finished eating his fill before walking over to the leftovers, glancing at the seal Joan carried on her. "Hey, butler. Mind taking this away for us?"

"Don't be so rude," Joan grumbled.

"No need to worry. I shall preserve it for you to consume at a later date." The rest of their lunch disappeared in a golden flash, and the blonde gave Qrow a glare.

"What?" he asked, grinning. "Don't tell me you're going to chastise me or something."

"I have half a damn mind to." Her blue gaze narrowed and she folded her arms. "Do you have any sort of decency in you?"

"Short Stack, there's no point in me pretending to be something I'm not."

"…I'm going to smack you."

"Save your energy for our session, Blondie." Qrow smirked and pulled out his greatsword, carrying it in his non-dominant hand. "Remember, you need to focus your magic. Time Control is one of the more difficult spells to master. Try and reach me from where you are."

Joan's hand became cloaked in green, and she tried to focus herself into moving to where he stood. She gasped in shock as she suddenly lurched forward and the next thing she knew she was on the ground facefirst in the grass.

She let out a muffled groan as she lifted her head, glaring at Qrow as he snickered. "I'm glad this is funny to you. I'd hate to think of what might happen if I succeeded in this first try." _'Ozpin, how the hell did you put up with him for all those years without hitting him? I know you're watching.'_

" _On the bright side, Joan, you didn't end up in a lake like Jaune did the first time he tried it."_ Ozpin's laughter rang in her head as she forced herself up. _"Better to be dry on the grass than end up soaking wet if you ask me. Unless you want to become a fish?"_

' _Oh, do shut up.'_ She spat out a mouthful of dirt and sent Qrow a dirty look as she made her way back to her starting point. _'I hear enough of it from him.'_

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and focusing. Her hands became cloaked in green magic again, and she cast the spell for the second time. Again she lurched forward, but this time she managed to stay upright for a bit before she tumbled to the ground again, catching herself.

"Definitely better than the first time," Qrow replied, helping her back up to her feet. "Now, again. Remember, your footwork is going to dictate whether you stay standing or you land on your face. And I don't know about you, but you are too pretty to end up looking like you lost a fight with a shovel."

The princess brushed herself off, wiping her mouth and grimacing. "How long did it take you and Jaune to use this spell properly?" _'If it took them anything less than a week, I'll be surprised.'_

"Jaune took about three weeks of constant use before he could master it, but he was already one damn good mage thanks to his enormous magical reserves," Qrow answered. "He didn't start using it until he was already an arch mage. I don't really use magic that often, so it took me five to six weeks."

"Well, that makes me feel a little bit better about all these mishaps," Joan muttered, earning a snicker from the older man. She made her way back and tried again. Her hands became alive with green energy and casted the spell for the third time. She stumbled a bit after lurching forward, but this time she remained standing upright.

Qrow nodded in approval, grinning. "Not bad. Your landing could be a little smoother, but you are getting better. Now, again."

Joan was panting heavily and she could feel her magic reserves were mostly sapped now. She needed to let them rest if she wanted to prevent herself from passing out and she looked at him wearily. "Not sure if I can keep using my magic like this, Qrow. My reserves aren't as big as yours."

"The only way they'll get any bigger is if you push yourself." Qrow reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask filled with some kind of blue liquid sloshing about in it. With a lazy flick of his wrist he tossed it to her. "Drink this. This'll keep you going for a bit."

The blonde caught it and eyed it suspiciously. Even though they had fought together and he had been keeping his promise of giving up drinking, she wouldn't put it past him to play some sort of sick joke and give her liquor for little more than a laugh. "Are you sure about this?"

"Short Stack, I'm not some sleazy pervert who tries to get pretty women intoxicated so I can sleep with them." He rolled his red eyes with a sigh. "For the love of Avo, trust me on this, will you?"

"Fine," Joan grumbled, yanking the cork out and steeling herself for the worst. "But if I end up losing consciousness and wake up in the same bed as you, I'm going to cut off a specific part of your anatomy."

" _I wouldn't worry too much about that,"_ Ozpin said. _"Despite his addiction to the art of flirting, Qrow has morals and refuses to take advantage of someone like that."_

' _Him and morals don't belong in the same sentence.'_ Joan rolled her eyes and took a careful sniff. The smell of the potion was similar to a combination of Zwei's fur and burnt feathers, making her grimace. Still, she was relieved to not smell any trace of alcohol in it. _'Okay, so he kept his word. Well, bottoms up.'_

She raised the flask to her lips and drank it. The harsh taste scorched the back of her throat and she coughed, but she managed to keep it down. She felt a sudden surge of energy course through her body and she stood up a little straighter, tossing the empty flask at the raven haired man. "This tastes awful."

"Yeah, but it worked didn't it?" Qrow caught it with a bored yawn and put in his pocket. "Trust me, if I could find a way to sweeten it without diluting its effects, I would. Even I admit they taste like rubbish, but you won't find a better way to get your magical reserves back up. Now focus and use the spell again." He definitely wasn't going to go easy on her.

"Fine, fine." Joan stood in her spot and cast the spell again. She lurched forward and found herself staring directly up at Qrow's face, standing mere inches away from him. She felt a bit of heat rise to her cheeks when she realized just how close she was to the handsome man and she tried to prevent herself from staring at his dull red eyes. If she looked too long, she'd be trapped in that gaze forever.

"Boop." He raised a finger up and gently flicked her nose, prompting the princess to squeak in surprise and jump back.

"Qrow! What was that for!?" She tried to hide her blushing face from him to prevent him from teasing her even more than he already did. She didn't want him to think that she was starting to fall for him. The teasing would be merciless.

"Don't get distracted, Blondie." Qrow waggled his finger and grinned. "Now, again. This time, have your sword out. We'll be practicing more now that you have the basics down. Using it in a combat situation would be ideal, but I don't think we'll be running into any bandits around here. Ah well, looks like my summons will have to do for now."

He cast the spell, and this time Joan didn't jump in surprise when five shadowy warriors appeared in bursts of dark magic. She drew her sword, spinning it in her hands and getting ready. She was getting more and more comfortable with a sword in her hands with each passing day, and she kept it in a defensive position.

"Begin," Qrow instructed with a bored yawn. "And remember to use your spell against them."

"I know, I know." Joan took a breath and cast the spell on her exhale. She ended up behind one of the shadowy warriors and before it could even react she sank her sword through its back. It burst in a cloud of magic and Joan pulled it free, casting another quick spell to send herself out of reach of the summon.

Its sword struck nothing but air and the blonde grinned. "Hey, I'm over here." its glowing eyes fixed on her and she teleported next to it, tapping it on the shoulder. "Boo."

It jumped and raised it arm back to swing, only to fall in three pieces as Joan's sword cut through its body with a series of quick slashes. Her blood pumped in her ears, drowning out the sounds of her sword cutting through shadow. She felt _good_ , more alive than she had been a few moments before, and she liked it.

This was the power of a Hero could do.

She cast another quick spell to finish off the last shadow, teleporting right in front of it and decapitating the being with one quick cut. The headless shadow toppled in a heap and Joan looked over at Qrow, who was motioning for her to come and get it.

The blonde smirked and went to rush him, and her sword met his. Sparks flew out from the two pieces of sharp metal colliding, and Qrow smirked at her. "You've done well, princess. Definitely a quick learner, for sure. I can sense the potential you have."

"Hey, I've had good teachers." Joan grinned back at him, refusing to let him gain any ground on her despite not being as strong as the older Hero.

"But there's still one thing you forgot."

"And what's that?"

"You're off balance." Qrow slid his heavy sword down and caught the handle of hers, yanking it out of her hand. Joan watched her sword spin in the air and Qrow took the opportunity to trip her onto the ground with a loud laugh.

"Dammit Qrow!" She let out a groan as she fell on her backside, lifting her head to glare at him. "You did that on purpose, didn't you!?" _'Dammit, does he always have to mess with me every chance he gets?'_

"I most certainly did." Qrow extended his hand to help her up and Joan reluctantly accepted it, dusting leaf litter and dirt off of her skirt. "Someone has to keep you on your toes, and there's no one in Albion more qualified for the job than me."

"You are going to drive me mad one day, I swear," she grumbled. She picked up her sword and sheathed it, pulling out her crossbow to check it. It looked as shiny as it did before, and she frowned. "Klein, can you send me the pistol, please?" _'If we're walking out in the woods, I don't think I'm going to get the luxury of spending time reloading after every shot in the event we're ambushed by some bandits.'_

"As you wish, madam." A flash of golden light later, Joan's crossbow was replaced by her pistol and she spun it in her fingers before sliding it into her holster.

"Thank you." Some days, she really didn't know what she would do without him. Klein had always been there for her from the time of her birth. He was hired by her father sometime after he forged Albion into a united kingdom and had never once been tempted to leave despite bribes from countless nobles. The man was simply too fiercely loyal to be bought like a lesser man.

The bottom of the mountains were very beautiful to look at in the morning. The sun had risen up over some of the peaks in the distance, sending rays of light over the crystal clear lake. She watched as a fox stalked a rabbit only forty meters away and she grimaced when she watched the predator strike. _'So much for it being peaceful.'_

"Ah, nature at work, I see." Qrow clapped a hand on her shoulder, and she couldn't help but shiver despite it starting to warm up. If it had been anyone else, she wouldn't have been bothered by it. But for some reason she could not put her finger on, it made her tingle in a very strange yet familiar way, and she _liked_ it.

' _Pull yourself together, Joan,'_ she scolded silently. _'So what if he's easy on the eyes? He drives you into fits of insanity and is constantly trying to find ways to mess with you. You don't think that way towards him, even if he is handsome and skilled in battle.'_

She was glad when his hand pulled away from her shoulder and Klein took their supplies back into the Sanctuary. They hopefully wouldn't need to camp out in the wilderness again; as much as Joan enjoyed it, it simply couldn't beat a good night's rest in a comfortable bed. Beds didn't have sticks and rocks under them that constantly poked her whenever she shifted her body.

"So, where's this monorail station?" Qrow asked, stretching out. "Somewhere not too far?"

"No." Joan shook her head, looking at the map of the surrounding area. "If the legend on this map is accurate, then it is at least a mile away from here. Not too bad of a walk." _'And once we get on, then it will be nothing but a nice leisurely trip hopefully.'_

Joan had never ridden on a monorail before, despite there being a station for it down in Millfields. It was the quickest way to get to the capital from the farthest reaches of the kingdom, but according to Port it was also very dangerous as the passengers were essentially dangled across a giant chasm in a steel box.

Good thing she wasn't terrified of heights or the dark like her mentor.

The blonde princess put the map away in her shirt and ran down to get a bucketful of water to put their fire out. The water was icy cold at first touch, but she fought back against the discomfort and hefted up a scoopful of it with ease. The muscles in her body were getting more and more used to the physical work she was constantly doing and as a result she barely noticed the weight despite having a good morning workout. _'Looks like I have another thing to thank Qrow for.'_

She wasn't in any means in bad shape; even though she was royalty Port always took great care in making sure the princess wasn't some soft little flower who had grown fat on wine and pies. But not even Port's training could match what Qrow was putting her through on a daily basis. Training with a Hero was much more difficult than anything Port threw at her. He pushed her past her limits to try and make her better than she already was. She liked that, though she'd never admit it to him. Knowing Qrow he'd take that as a sign for him to make it even more difficult.

Joan doused the flames and set the bucket down, watching as it too disappeared into the Sanctuary. Klein was definitely enjoying himself keeping everything as tidy as possible there.

The blonde wiped her forehead and smirked at the older man. "So, are you gonna come on? Or are you going to keel over and let someone much younger than you beat you, old man?"

"Pretty sure I've told you not to call me old, Short Stack." Qrow flicked her nose and stuck his tongue out at her, making her squeak in surprise.

"Haha. Too slow Blondie." He grinned and set off into a brisk walk, looking over his shoulder with a lazy wink. "Keep up if you can."

"Oh, no you don't. You're not going anywhere without me, you dirty old man," Joan shot back, chasing after him and kicking up a bit of leaves in her wake. "I'll race you there."

"Easy there, kiddo. Don't need you getting out of breath and collapsing. Not really in the mood to be carrying you all day." Qrow smirked and stuck his leg out to make her halt her progress. Joan stumbled thanks to him trying to trip her for possible the hundredth time in the few weeks she'd known him.

"Did you absolutely have to do that?" she asked exasperatedly, catching herself before she could slam facefirst into the mud and hear him gloat about it. "It seems to me as though you're always going out of your way to find new and unamusing ways to mess with me."

"Blondie, having a sense of humor is how I cope with mental pain," Qrow said with a shrug. "Yeah, my jokes might not be the greatest. But they get me through each day and that's all that matters."

"How much did she mean to you?" Joan asked quietly, wiping a few crumbling bits of leaf litter off of her skirt. "Winter, I mean."

"More than anything." Qrow stared at the ground for a few seconds before he pulled out a bright shiny ring with a beautifully cut sapphire right in the middle of it, the sun reflecting off of the gemstone. "We were going to get married, you know. But she's gone now. She's gone and even though I've been mourning for a very long time, nothing will bring her back except for perhaps the Spire itself. As cold and heartless as it sounds, I guess I have to move on. I loved her and always will. But I can't allow that to hold me back."

He lifted his head and gave her a smile. "She wouldn't want to see me miserable for the rest of my days. She'd want me to be happy. So that's what I'll do."

" _Well said, Qrow,"_ Ozpin murmured in her head. _"I admit it is a nice change to see you refusing to turn to drink and instead occupy your mind with something else like reading a nice book."_

Joan had to agree with the immortal. It was a very nice and pleasant change. No longer did the blonde see his pale red eyes become constantly filled with pain and suffering, but rather they were alive and hopeful. He once again had a reason to live once his curse had been lifted.

"Hey, kiddo, mind if we take a little detour before we go meet up with Port?" Qrow asked. "There's a nice trail up there. Never know where it could lead."

"But didn't he…?"

"Blondie, this rebellion isn't going anywhere. We're not exactly in a rush to get things going. We have all the time in the world until we're ready. Port knows that as a soldier. Being patient pays a long way."

"Fine." Joan let out a sigh of resignation and started to follow him up the winding trail that led to the east of the monorail station. The trees were noticeably thicker here than down by the lake and the path wasn't as beaten. Several thick berry bushes grew around the trunks of the old oaks, no signs of being touched by Logan's lumber policy.

It was a pity to think that eventually he'd destroy this in order to feed Albion's voracious appetite for industry. _'No. We can't allow him to disfigure Albion to sate the needs of a greedy few. We should be protecting our land, not ruining her.'_

She stopped and plucked a few berries from a nearby bush, gently dragging a finger over its bright blue skin. Ripe and untainted by the factory smoke, it was pure. She popped one in her mouth and chewed, savoring its rich flavors and smacking her lips. _'A few weeks ago, I had never stepped foot outside the capital. Now, I'm out here in the mountains and seeing my land for the first time. If I knew just how beautiful this part of the country was, I would've asked my brother to let me visit a few times before I left the castle.'_

The trail took a sharp turn and Qrow put his arm out to stop her. "Wait a sec. We can't see what's around that corner. Perfect spot for an ambush. I'll check to make sure it's clear, first." He summoned his bow into his hands and poked his head around the bend, eyes flickering left and right to make sure they were completely clear. "Alright, we're good. Not a whisper of a bandit in sight. Just how I like it."

"Not a fan of them?" Joan asked, letting her hand fall from the handle of her own longsword.

"They're nothing but cowards who prey on the helpless. Five hundred years ago they burned Oakvale to the ground when Jaune was a kid, killing everyone in sight. The few survivors rebuilt the village eventually, but those who were lucky to survive were forever haunted by that night," Qrow answered. "Jaune himself was constantly plagued by nightmares every time he visited the village on a quest. Poor bastard never really recovered from that loss. It weighed on him every day of his life."

' _Just how I feel with Yang.'_ She didn't ever tell the older man about it, but she too occasionally had nightmares of the most horrific day of her life. The day when Yang was sentenced to death by her brother in front of her very eyes.

She'd never be able to forget that. _'Yang…I miss you. I'd do anything to have you by my side right now.'_ Joan put a hand over her heart, remembering just how much seeing Yang's smile would brighten her day.

Zwei let out a soft whine and rubbed his head against her legs as if to comfort her. He too missed the blonde noble and Joan crouched down to pet his ears. "I know. You miss her, too. But she's gone, now. We have to make sure Logan doesn't take anyone else, right?"

Zwei barked in agreement, doing a little jump.

The princess smiled. "That's right. Now come on, before the old man abandons us in the middle of nowhere." She motioned to Qrow, the man about forty meters ahead of her.

The two quickly caught up to him and the path ended at an arch overlooking the forest. She could see everything for miles and miles, even the faint outline of Brightwall Village in the distance, and her breath was taken away. "Wow…it's beautiful."

"I'll say." Qrow nodded in agreement, one hand on his head as a cool breeze ruffled his messy hair. "I know I tease you a lot, but know that I do care. I don't want to see you make the same mistakes that I did. I'm not proud of it."

"Qrow…" Joan's hand moved almost by instinct and touched his, the older Hero blinking in surprise to see her hand in his. "We need to let go. The past doesn't define who you are."

She didn't notice the faint blush on his cheeks as she stared at the wilderness, wiping away the wetness with a small smile. "It just gives you the starting point for who you're going to be."

 _ **A/N: What's this? The first flames of their relationship starting? Oh yes. Like I said, I was originally going to do this with the Monorail quest, but that chapter I think is going to be massive in its own regard, and I didn't want to add another six or seven thousand words to this already lengthy chapter as I'm going to spend a lot of time on it. Hopefully the next update doesn't take me fucking forever. See you!**_

 _ **C. Strife #5371**_


	11. Enough Hobbe-ing Around

_**A/N: Alright, here's chapter eleven. This one will focus on the Monorail questline, one I've personally enjoyed a lot, and I'll include some extra goodies along the way. Hey, this is a fantasy epic after all, and I plan on cramming in a shit ton of lore and detailing into every region.**_

 _ **To Guest reviewer: Thank you for your kind words. Hopefully it gets more attraction soon :D**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***Enough Hobbe-ing Around***

Joan quickly let go of Qrow's hand when she realized she was holding it in such a tender way. It was the same way Yang would hold her hand, like a lover, and heat furiously rushed to her face to paint her cheeks red with embarrassment. "Sorry. I…I didn't mean to. Erm…"

"Don't worry about it," Qrow said quickly, turning his head to the left so she couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or not. She doubted he would be, given his slightly flirtatious manner. Not like the princess. She was still blushing even after the raven haired man turned around and started to go back down the path they came.

"Come on," he called over his shoulder. "We best get a move on before Port starts getting worried about me kidnapping you."

"R-right!" Joan turned around and started to hurry after him. She could remember how pleasant Qrow's hand felt in hers. The comforting warmth of his palm against hers, the excited shivers she felt run up her spine when his calloused fingers gently scratched against her own. It was like it was an invitation for her to get closer to him. _'Why? Why did I like it so much!? I only just lost my girlfriend a few weeks ago!'_

' _Focus, Joan. You have an important task to see to and don't need these dumb thoughts about someone who drives you nuts lurking in your head,'_ she mentally scolded, sending a prayer up to Avo that Ozpin hadn't picked up on any of that. He had been rather quiet today, only speaking a handful of times earlier in the morning. _'And I do hope Ozpin didn't hear or see any of that. Oh please, who am I kidding? He probably did.'_

She didn't think Ozpin would eavesdrop on her in her little mental crisis, but it never hurt to be careful.

" _I can promise you, Joan, anything you don't want me to hear or see, I won't,"_ Ozpin whispered. _"You have nothing to worry about, I assure you."_

' _Well, there's at least a bit of comfort knowing that,'_ Joan thought with a roll of her eyes, following in Qrow's trail. The morning sun was streaking through the leaves of the trees, slowly ascending as noon drew closer and closer with each passing minute. A lone rabbit darted out of the bushes right in front of her to nibble on some plant stems, nearly causing her to trip.

The rabbit looked up with wide eyes and dashed away, the princess catching herself before she fell. She was already catching up with Qrow, his pace much more relaxed than hers.

"Hey, relax a little, will you?" he asked, looking over his shoulder with one eye lazily winked open. "I promise you, nothing is going to attack us out here. No wolves are stupid enough to try and take on two of us."

"You sure about that?" she asked warily. "I haven't forgotten the Chillbreath Caverns when we had to escort that girl back to Brightwall Village." _'There was just so many of the damn things. Every five minutes we had a bloody wolf pack trying to attack us. But those wolves were starving and desperate.'_

"Wolves are smart predators," Qrow replied. "They know when to attack and when not to, unless they've been starving or are afflicted by some kind of disease. The ones that attacked us were skinny and looked as though they hadn't eaten in a week."

"If you say so." Joan trusted his word, but she couldn't help but look around every thirty seconds to make sure nothing was about to leap out of the trees at them.

She was thankful when the path led them back to the lakeside clearing where they rested the previous night. The blonde let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, glancing at Raven's mercenary camp on the other side of the lake. "Hey, Qrow? Do you think I made the right choice in sparing her? Raven, I mean."

"Hmm." Qrow pursed his lips, frowning in concentration. "I have to say it was unexpected. Most people would have cut her down right then and there rather than take the risk of her possibly betraying them in the future. I won't lie; you are taking a hell of a gamble. But you beat her once before and you've gotten significantly stronger since then. Raven's not stupid. She knows she was outmatched. So to answer your question, I think you did. Others will disagree, but it was your choice. Living with the consequences of your decisions is part of being a leader."

She let out a sigh. It was probably the best answer she was going to get, if she was being honest. Joan felt as though she had did the right thing though, which was more than enough for her to live with. A Hero didn't take any unnecessary lives if possible.

The blonde princess followed Qrow along the stone trail, a large cave looming in front of them. "There. Mistpeak Monorail Station. You'd think they'd make the damn thing closer to the village." _'Especially since this region is crawling with wolves looking for an easy meal and bandits who will gladly plunder a villager's coffers if they get the chance.'_

"Maybe." Qrow shrugged and glanced over at the ticket booth, only for it to be unoccupied. "So, someone's not doing their job I take it?"

"Most likely. Either that or they're on break." Joan walked inside and found a lone book called, 'How to be a Crack Shot'. She picked it up to see if it contained any kind of useful advice or tips for her to improve her aim. Unfortunately, it was pretty much the exact same as the book she had found in the Reliquary underneath Brightwall Academy. _When you're shooting at something, just don't miss. It's as simple as that._

' _Oh you've got to be kidding me.'_ She tossed it back where she found it with an annoyed growl. _'It's the same rubbish as that other book! Who the hell even wrote this load of tosh!?'_ She picked it up to glare at the author responsible for this horrible excuse of marksmanship advice and saw the culprit's name lazily scrawled on the cover in bright gold letters. Captain Arkwright.

She had heard that name before. He was supposedly a legendary marksman during his days in the Albion army, supposedly never missing a shot in his career if Port and her brother were to be believed. However in his twilight years he started to lose his mind and became rather senile. Rather than risk him completely going insane on the battlefield, Logan had convinced him to retire and live in peace in his cottage in Millfields.

After his time in the service, he took to writing books. Incredibly awful books that weren't worth the price, as the works of his Joan had read would suggest. They weren't even what she could reasonably consider books; they were closer to the ramblings of a madman than actual literature.

Joan rolled her eyes and set it down before walking out of the small kiosk, shaking her head. "Unbelievable…Qrow, do me a favor. If I for some reason ever decide to write a book, make sure it's actually decent before you let me publish it for all of Albion to read."

"You got yourself a deal, princess." Qrow chuckled. "I didn't really take you to be the writing type though. You're not someone who can spend days at a time sitting down. You'd go mad before long."

"That's not the point, Qrow." She rolled her eyes and moved up the trail towards the cave mouth, the inky black hole illuminated by several dozen candle lights. She could remember Logan talking to her about the monorail system when it was still being designed. With the Age of Industry having come to Albion, new ways of transportation had to be made. Horse drawn carriages were still common throughout the land's small villages and trade by sea was as steady as always, but the monorail provided very quick and very affordable transportation throughout the main parts of the kingdom. One could get from Mistpeak to the capital of Bowerstone in less than a day, when typically the journey would take days on foot.

As always, the thought of how her brother used to be brought a tear to her eye. He used to be a ruler Albion loved. At the beginning of his reign he was a strong and respectable man who ruled with a firm but fair hand, never being too harsh with his policies. Then four years ago everything started to change for the worst. He became unnecessarily harsh, raising the taxes to almost double the usual rate. _'What happened all those years ago? A change like that doesn't happen without a reason.'_

' _Don't focus on that right now. Worry about it when you can.'_ Joan continued to walk up with Qrow behind her, happy to see the cave open up into the station. It was held up by massive wood and metal pillars, easily designed to handle tremendous weight, and quite a few people were queuing up to board the monorail once it arrived. Joan counted at least two dozen villagers and traders from Brightwall.

She looked around the cave, whistling at the vast emptiness beyond. "Wow. That is a lot of empty space." She peered over the edge and immediately looked away. "And a very long fall down." Now that she thought about it, she could really understand Port's slight fear of being up in high places. Monorails were little more than steel boxes dangled across giant chasms.

The blonde saw a few posters plastered around the station and she took a look at them. One of them was war propaganda about joining the Albion army, but one that really stood out was one that was posted by Reaver Industries. _Short but industrious! Give your child the Reaver life!_

The princess felt sick to her stomach and covered her mouth. She had heard a few rumors in the castle about how Reaver, the man who controlled almost all of Bowerstone Industrial, had absolutely deplorable working conditions, but she never expected it to include child labor of all things. _'That's terrible! Forcing children to work in factories?'_

"What is it?" Qrow peered over her shoulder to have a look at the poster and his pale red gaze darkened when he read the fading letters. "That's just sick. Last time I checked, that was not only immoral, but illegal."

"It isn't," Joan replied sadly. "Age of adulthood was never specified when my father made Albion into a kingdom. One of the few flaws that appears to be taken advantage of." _'Logan, why aren't you stopping this!? This is monstrous!'_

The poster next to it wasn't any better. It had a guillotine lazily scribbled on it with blood dripping down from the blade and a person's head lying on the ground next to it. _Behave or behead._

Things were very bad indeed if these kinds of posters were allowed to be spread all over the kingdom. _'All this time I stayed in the castle and never once ventured out of its walls to see the world for how it truly is. Port was right; I really didn't have any idea what life outside the castle was like. Poverty, hunger, and this. This isn't the Age of Industry like the nobles claimed it was. It's the Age of Oppression.'_

' _I will change this when I take the throne. I can't have my people suffer like this,'_ she vowed.

" _Don't get too far ahead, Joan,"_ Ozpin whispered. _"We still have a lot of work to do before you are ready to take the throne. You can't win against an entire army with just a few villagers' support and a mercenary tribe."_

Ozpin's voice was soothing and the blonde took in a deep breath to calm herself. _'You're right. No point in getting stressed over it now. Not when I still have so much to do ahead of time. But I am going to make it clear what the age of adulthood is to prevent this kind of rubbish.'_

She ripped her blue gaze away from the horrible posters, ignoring another one with a noose and a body hanging from it. The main platform was a little further ahead and she could make out the shape of her mentor sitting on a bench with one leg draped over the side. A pint of some kind of beverage was in his hands and his loud whistling echoed throughout the cave.

A smile rose to her lips as she recognized the song. It was the one he always used to sing to her as a child, about how her father slew the bandit king Thag the same day he awakened his powers as a Hero. Hearing the cheerful tune banished the awful posters to the back of her mind and she approached him with a wave of her hands. "Sorry we're late. Got a little sidetracked thanks to a certain someone." She gave Qrow a knowing glance.

The raven haired man put his hands up and gasped in mock horror. "How could you betray me like that? I thought we'd agree to say it was because of the weather!" Zwei let out a quiet whine of protest and rubbed his furry head against Joan's legs.

Joan rolled her eyes and smiled apologetically. "Hope we didn't keep you waiting too long?"

"Not at all." Port let out a hearty guffaw and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, chuckling a bit as he got up with a slight stumble. "I only just arrived myself about ten minutes ago and paid the stand over there a visit. They serve good ale. Nice to find a good proper drink even all the way out here." He pointed towards the stand at the end of the platform.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Joan asked skeptically, looking at him wobble. "We can always wait a few before we get onboard."

"Don't worry. I'm in the perfect condition to sit in a single space for a large amount of time." Port chuckled and looked out at the chasm. "I can never get over this place, you know? Twenty years ago it was just a dark empty void in the middle of nowhere. Now people queue up to get dangled across it in a steel box."

Joan looked up at the tracks hanging up from the chasm ceiling and felt a shudder go up her spine. She was fine with heights for the most part, having just spent a good amount of time in a mountain village, but this was different. She'd be in an enclosed space with nowhere to go in the event of the monorail falling. _'That is a terrifying thought, actually. Oh Avo, please don't let this thing fall while we're inside it.'_

"Ah, and here it comes." Port pointed to the monorail in the distance, blowing steam out of its top as it slowly made its way towards the station. "Most of the people here will be heading straight to Bowerstone, but we're going to take a little detour first. I just hope—"

The monorail suddenly screeched to a halt and began to shudder on its tracks. Port frowned and reached for the handle of his sword. "Something's wrong. Very, very, wrong."

Joan could've sworn she saw flickers of movement inside the monorail and a loud explosion sounded off, the force of the blast sending a powerful wave of energy towards her. She managed to hold her ground and saw that the monorail was only just clinging onto the rail by a single wheel, desperately churning in an attempt to reach safety. "It's about to fall!" _'No, please no! Don't fall!'_

Her fears came true as second explosion sent the monorail tumbling to the cavern floor with a loud crash.

"NO!" Port yelled, looking over the side of the platform as a swarm of bats came rising up, the sound disturbing them from their nest.

The princess was frozen in place, eyes wide and trembling. _'They're dead. All of them…they're all dead! Oh Avo, no…'_

She felt sick to her stomach at the horrifying scene she just witnessed and she could hear the panicked screams of the villagers as they fled the station. Never had she witnessed so much death in such a freak accident.

"Come on!" Port's voice jerked her out of her trance and she looked to see him going to what looked to be the maintenance elevator. Blocking his way was a heavy metal door and he drew his sword to wedge the door open. "We have to get down there! See if there are any survivors!"

Zwei looked up at her with a soft whine, panting a little with his tongue hanging out. The princess scooped him up into her arms and hugged him tightly, burying her face in soft fur for comfort. "Thank you, Zwei…" Right now, she was glad she held him in a warm embrace. It helped to calm her down and she set him back down.

"Hey, you alright?" Qrow's hand landed on her shoulder and she shivered at his touch. It was oddly comforting, as was the concern in his voice.

"Y-yeah. I think so." She tried to steady her shaking hand, clutching it. "I just…I never saw that kind of thing happen before. So many people, all dead at once in front of me. Does it get any easier?"

"Not really. You just learn to cope with it better as time goes on," Qrow answered quietly. "Don't do what I did, Joan. Never turn to drink as a way to cope with loss. It can and will ruin you."

This time, she wasn't tired enough to realize that he did use her name properly. He never used her real name, except for last night when he told her to go and get some sleep. Most of the time he preferred to call her by one of his awful nicknames. "Um, Qrow? Are you sure you're okay? You never call me by my name."

"This is a serious manner." Qrow shook his head. "No jokes here. Are you sure that you're alright after all that? The last thing this rebellion needs is for its leader to freeze up in the middle of a battle."

"I…I don't know," she confessed, looking down at the ground. "Like I said, I had never seen anything like that in my life. Not even…not even when Logan ordered my partner to be executed in front of me. That feeling of helplessness when you see something terrible about to happen and you can't do anything about it…it hurts."

She felt the corners of her eyes sting at the feeling of being powerless to do anything to save the passengers of the monorail and she closed her eyes shut to prevent herself from crying in front of him. She wasn't expecting a pair of arms to wrap around her and pull her into a comforting hug.

She looked up and saw that it was Qrow who was hugging her. One hand settled on the small of her back and she leaned into it, letting a few tears out onto his shirt. "S-sorry…"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he murmured, gently ruffling her hair. "Things like this happen. Don't ever be afraid to cry."

She hadn't shed tears like this since she saw just how deplorable of a state the Dweller Camp used to be in before she did something about it. _'But I was actually able to change that. How am I going to try and change this?'_

Joan heard a loud metallic screech and saw that Port had managed to pry the door open. The old soldier took a moment to recover and he got to his feet. "Let's go."

Joan broke away from Qrow's comforting hug and set out after him, Zwei panting at her feet as he ran to keep up with her. Qrow was right behind her and they ran along the platform that was connected to the cavern walls by sturdy metal pillars. The floorboards creaked under their weight but remained strong and they eventually reached the service elevators used by construction workers when they were building the monorail system.

"Looks like the only way." Port didn't look too pleased and rubbed his temples. "Let's get a move on. I don't want to spend any more time in that box than I have to. They could be filled with damned mice for all I know."

Joan rolled her eyes and walked into the elevator, Qrow and Port on either side of her. _'Mice aren't exactly our biggest concern at the moment.'_ She pulled the lever once everyone was inside it and the steel gates shut before it began its descent to the cavern floor. On the ground were abandoned old railroad tracks and a lone mine car filled with stone sat in the corner, a rusty old pickaxe lying next to it.

A swarm of bats flew overhead, letting out high pitched squeaks of panic as the three of them stepped out of the elevator once it reached the bottom. To no surprise Port was the first one out of it the second the gates to it opened, reaching for his sword. "It fell somewhere up ahead."

The smell of burning wood and metal filled her nose and the princess could see the smoke from the wreckage in the distance, burning her eyes even from a good few hundred meters away.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Qrow murmured next to her, summoning his bow into his hands. "Be on your guard."

Joan readied her pistol and as they drew nearer to the wreckage of the monorail car, Zwei's ears flattened against his head and he let out a threatening growl. He only acted like that when something hostile was nearby. "What is it, Zwei?"

She started to hear insane cackles and banging metal, like those of mad children who had long since lost their minds. Port hissed under his breath and drew his sword. "I'd know those damned sounds anywhere. The monorail falling wasn't a bloody accident at all!"

They stopped and Joan let out a gasp of horror as she saw a swarm of hideous creatures playing with the destroyed monorail. They were truly ugly; squat little bald monsters with elongated ears, light gray wrinkly skin and three toed feet. "W-what the hell are those!?"

"Hobbes," Qrow said with a growl, readying an arrow. "Don't leave any of the little bastards alive."

The hobbes turned when they noticed the three humans and let out cackles. One reached its grubby hands for the axe that it had on its belt and slumped to the ground just short of the blonde, a spectral arrow protruding from its head. Qrow had killed it with a masterful shot and he lowered his bow to ready another arrow. "Focus! Use your power on them!"

Joan nodded and concentrated her magic, feeling it course through her fingertips as she released the spell. The lightning bolts struck the hobbe in the center of its body and it fell over in a heap of burning flesh. Her satisfaction was short lived as a second and third charged her, swinging their rusty axes. The blonde dodged their attacks by rolling out of the way and she reached instead for her sword. With her blade in hand she was able to parry two sloppy strikes, pushing the hobbe off guard.

She finished it off with a quick thrust into where she assumed its heart would be. Blood spilled down her sword and dripped onto the ground, the hobbe's body now limp. She pushed it off of her sword and twirled around to see the second one had started to run away in fear. Before she could even draw her own gun, Port shot it in the backside, chuckling as it flew through the air before falling with a wet thump.

She lowered her sword and looked at the wreckage of the monorail. Anyone who had survived the initial crash had probably died either to the hobbes or the burning flames and she felt sick to her stomach at all of the death these hideous creatures had caused. _'So many people dead all at once. All because of these things.'_ One of the ugly bastards was still twitching, bleeding heavily from several gunshot wounds. It tried to desperately crawl towards its fallen axe and Qrow put the hobbe out of its misery with a single arrow to the back of the head.

Port stood next to her, shaking his head in sympathy for the people who had died in the crash. "Poor bastards. They never stood a chance. I'm not getting in another monorail car for as long as I live, I can tell you that. Let's move on ahead. We still need to get across this damned place to get to our destination."

"And where is that? You mind enlightening us?" Qrow asked wearily. "I prefer knowing where I'm going rather than walking all over the damned country blind."

"Weren't you once the Guildmaster?" Port idly pointed out.

"Yeah, five hundred damned years ago," Qrow countered dryly. "A lot has changed since then, like Albion being a united kingdom. Last I remember, Albion was little more than a few random settlements."

"We're going to meet some old friends of mine from during King Sparrow's campaign to unite Albion," Port said calmly, leading the way across an old mine train bridge. "I definitely wouldn't want to go into any kind of fight without them on my side; Sparrow and I bloody trained them, for Avo's sake."

"So, experienced soldiers? Hell, we could do with those." Qrow chuckled. "It'll make going up against an entire army a lot easier."

"Not just any experienced soldiers. Soldiers trained by a bloody Hero," Port corrected. "Sparrow was one hell of a commander during the wars. It was an honor getting to fight by his side all those years ago." He let out a wistful sigh and stroked his mustache, a small smile forming on his face. "He'd have a lot of fun beating the hell out of these ugly little bastards again."

The cavern itself was cool and free of any kind of dampness; a steady stream of wind blew through it, ruffling Joan's skirt and hair. Various bits of fungi grew on the ground and she could hear the steady drip of water coming down from the stalactites above. They wouldn't have to worry about finding drinking water if they needed to camp for a night or two, that was for sure.

Joan shuddered at the thought of sharing the same kind of living space with a bunch of hobbes. True, the caverns they were currently in were massive; it would take at least a few days to cross them on foot and they would probably be spread out rather than clumped together. But they were truly repugnant beasts that fit their name very well and had a horrible odor. The stink of wet dog and rotten cheese would be stuck in her nose for a long time after.

"Not looking forward to having to camp in here, are you?" Qrow whispered. Joan shook her head and he gave her an apologetic smile. "Me neither, to tell you the truth. These things are hideous and smell awful."

"Tell me about it." Joan let out an annoyed huff. "I'm not going to get this stench out of my nose for a week." _'No wonder people tend to stay far clear of these things. Not only are they completely hideous, but they smell revolting.'_

They followed the mine rails until they reached a large clearing filled with several dozen barrels. Patrolling around it were five hobbes, letting out strange growls and grunts as they thumped their rusty maces in their hands, eagerly waiting to club human flesh.

They didn't know of the three humans' presence for the time being, even though they were only about twenty or so meters away from them. _'How can they not see us? It's not like we're exactly hard to miss.'_ Joan frowned and dropped her voice to a low whisper. "Klein, crossbow please. As quietly as you can."

"Coming, madam." Her crossbow appeared in her hands and she reached into the pouch on her belt to pry a single bolt out. With the weapon loaded, she motioned for Port and Qrow to come closer to her so she could tell them her plan.

"Qrow, these things don't have good eyesight, do they?" she asked quietly.

"No," he whispered back. "They spend most of their time deep underground. They have better hearing and sense of smell to compensate though. What are you thinking?"

Joan grinned and took aim at the closest one, drawing in her breath. "Take them by surprise from a distance. They won't know until it's too late." _'At least, that's how it should go. Avo knows that sometimes we don't have a good track record with stealth attacks.'_

"Got it, princess." Qrow pulled an arrow from his quiver and drew it back, one eye shut to help focus. "Fire on your mark."

Joan focused to make sure she was properly lined up and fired. "Mark!" The steel bolt flew out of the weapon and sank right between the fat little monster's beady eyes, dropping it instantly. Its mace fell out of its hands and rolled down the low hill towards them, leaving a trail of dirt in its wake.

Qrow dispatched the second one with an expert shot into its heart. The remaining three jumped in surprise, not expecting the surprise attack, and drew their weapons with mad cackles.

"Time for an old man to have some fun." Port let out a booming laugh that echoed in the cavern and drew his pistol. "Have some of that, you little bastards!" Three quick headshots were all it took him to kill them and the old soldier holstered his smoking pistol, looking back at the two Heroes with a cheeky grin on his face.

"There is simply nothing more satisfying to hit than a hobbe." He laughed again and went to take a few steps forward when he took notice of a heavy steel door to the left. It had a heavy lock on it, barring any kind of entry, and he motioned for them. "Found something."

Qrow studied the door, stroking his stubble. "Where do you suppose it leads? Up to the surface, maybe?"

"Doubtful." Port shook his head. "Reaver Industries is responsible for designing the monorail system; it's most likely only some kind of maintenance tunnel or something. Just wondering if maybe we can find some supplies in there; the lock doesn't have a trace of rust on it, meaning it was closed not too long ago. Never know what we could find."

"I hate to get carried away, but we don't exactly have the key to open it," Qrow pointed out. He crouched down to study the lock and frowned, reaching into the pocket of his black pants and pulling out a few small pieces of metal. "Lucky for you, you're in the presence of someone who specialized in the passive ability Guile. I should be able to pick it. Just give me a few moments and make sure none of those ugly bastards attack us."

"Don't worry; we'll watch your back. You're talking to one of the finest soldiers to ever serve in the Albion Army," Port boasted, drawing his sword. "Smelly little mites won't lay a hand on you."

Joan only rolled her eyes at her mentor's boasting and readied her own weapon. The clearing they were in was empty, completely devoid of any movement. A rack filled with barrels of what she assumed was wine lined the back wall and the ones that the hobbes were patrolling weren't budging at all. All was still. _'It's quiet. Too quiet for my liking. That's usually a sign of an ambush.'_

She heard the dull creaking of wood and watched as one of the barrels toppled over onto its side. Her eyes narrowed and she aimed her crossbow at it. The sneaky bastards weren't going to try and charge them. They were going to try and place their own ambush. _'Little blighters. I didn't expect them to be this clever.'_

She assumed the hobbes were mindless and easy targets. The realization sunk in that the group they just dispatched was nothing more than a distraction; the real threats were hiding in those barrels just waiting for them to try and pass through. Zwei's ears were flat against his head and he let out a threatening growl, confirming her suspicions. _'Dammit. No matter how small, you should never underestimate an enemy.'_ She was mentally kicking herself for such a stupid and amateur mistake.

" _At least you caught onto it before they attacked,"_ Ozpin pointed out. _"Let this be a lesson for you, Joan. Even the strongest can be overwhelmed by tactics and tenacity."_

' _Yeah, I get it now. Well, if they want to play the sneaking game, two can play at it.'_ Joan noticed a single barrel filled with gunpowder in the middle of the circle and she tried to hide her grin. _'Well, if I can't go in sword swinging, I might as well use my head.'_

"Port, fire at that gunpowder barrel," she whispered. "We're not alone here."

"On it." Port brought his pistol up in his spare hand and fired a single bullet. The resulting explosion sent a large shockwave out, destroying the barrels surrounding it. Out of them came six beleaguered green hobbes, those left alive looking around to see how their perfect ambush had failed so miserably.

"Bloody hell. Nearly gave me a heart attack," Port grumbled, stomping over to the closest one and sinking his sword through its fat round belly. "You ugly little buggers are going to pay for that." Blood splashed up and coated the steel blade, yet all that seemed to do was make the old soldier even more annoyed with the hobbes. Joan watched in fascination as he proceeded to shoot and stab every single hobbe he could get his hands on, occasionally shooting a dead one to make sure it was properly dead and not just pretending.

' _I do suppose at a time like this, it is better to be safe than sorry,'_ the blonde princess mused. Still, she couldn't help but think that Port had some sort of grudge against the creatures judging by the way he was slaughtering them. When all was said and done, Port took a few moments to catch his breath, shaking the blood off of his sword and giving her a weary grin.

"Ah, that was exhilarating. Just what this old soldier needed to feel alive again." His large moustache swirled as he laughed and he thumped on his chest as if he just chugged a large and hearty serving of mead. "But there will be more. That's one thing you can count on with hobbes. There are always more of the hideous little buggers."

Joan turned her attention back to Qrow to see the progress he had made on the lock. The older Hero was still fiddling with it, his lips pulled into a tight frown that almost reminded Joan of a disgruntled housewife. If they weren't currently in a giant chasm filled with the most repugnant pests to ever inhabit the world, Joan would've been tempted to tease him about it.

"How's it going?" she asked instead.

"A little tougher than I initially thought," Qrow answered. "But I think I got it now." He slowly turned the single lockpick and the keyhole turned with a satisfying click. The lock fell off and Qrow gave her a grin as he pulled out the piece of twisted metal. "Done and done."

He gave the door a gentle push and it slowly creaked open, revealing a small stone bridge that lead up to a wooden platform above them. "Well, let's see what we have here."

Joan and Port fell in behind him and they crossed the bridge, walking up the wooden staircase to the platform. At the very back of it was proof that someone had been there recently; a lone desk and chair sat at the very back against the cave wall, the flickering light of a candle providing ample light for them. On the desk sat a lone letter that had been hastily scribbled out and Joan picked it up to see it was addressed to Reaver.

 _Reaver,_

 _I'm afraid that we cannot risk sending out a few dozen workers into the caves at this time. I know you'll probably shoot me for saying this, but it's the truth. These kind of places aren't meant for normal folk; the damned place is filled with Avo knows how many bloody hobbes and we don't exactly have guns at our disposal to ward them off._

 _I'm sorry, but we have to put off expanding the monorail system for a little while longer. His Majesty won't be pleased either, but as of right now it is too costly, I'm afraid._

 _-Foreman Charles_

Joan set it back down and glanced at a large chest located next to the desk. _'So they were planning to expand the monorail. But to where? To Bloodstone, maybe?'_ Bloodstone was a port city far to the southwest of Albion. From what her father told her, it was a completely lawless city, devoid of any kind of guard presence and run by pirates. Prostitution and poverty were common sights in the streets, as were drunken brawls.

It sounded exactly the kind of place she would prefer avoiding if it were possible.

Joan looked at the chest with a hum. It didn't seem to be locked at all and she knelt down to lift the lid up to see its contents. Inside it were three health and magic potions, along with a few slices of preserved mutton meat. Not the most luxurious meal, but it would be more than fine for keeping their strength up as they traversed this vast empty void.

She picked up the supplies, putting the potions in her front pocket and handing the mutton to Qrow to store for later when they set up camp. He took it with a hopeful sniff and nodded approvingly. "Not bad. This'll hold us for tonight."

His hand lightly scraped against hers and she shivered. A tingle shot up her spine and she was sure her cheeks were flushing bright red now. She didn't want to admit it, but it felt strangely good to have his hand in hers. _'What the hell is going on with me!?'_

" _Oh young love. It's so heartwarming to see,"_ Ozpin said with a teasing laugh. _"I never thought I would see something so beautiful today."_

' _Shut up Ozpin,'_ Joan sent back, feeling more than a little flustered from the immortal mage's little jabs. _'You are not helping right now.'_ She did not want to put the idea of her possibly falling for Qrow's charms in Ozpin's head. If he started to think that, then Avo knows the teasing from him would be even worse than what Qrow did.

She tried to push away the feeling, but it still it lingered. _'Get a damn hold on yourself.'_ Joan did not want to think about how she felt about Qrow right now. Not when she had plenty of other things to worry about right now.

Joan abruptly turned away from Port and Qrow, heading back down the stairs. "We don't have time to sit around all day. Let's get a move on." She didn't wait to see the confused glances that Port and Qrow were certainly sharing and was back in the circular cavern from earlier.

She wanted to continue moving but she was stopped by Qrow grabbing her arm. "Wait. Don't rush on ahead; that's an easy way for you to get killed."

"But we can't just sit around. We need to hurry up," the blonde objected. However Qrow was already shaking his head.

"No. Look, we have plenty of time to take this nice and easy," he said quietly. He glanced over at Port. The old soldier was puffing a little and he didn't look like he was in any condition to fight for much longer. "Hey, how are you holding up? Think we should stop for a few minutes and catch our breath?"

Port nodded and hunched over, resting his hands on his knees. His own face was red and he was practically gasping for air at this moment. "Yes please. Times like these, I wish I could go back to my younger days when I could keep up with all you youngsters."

Joan took a seat, brushing her skirt over her legs and leaning against the splintered remains of a barrel. The pungent odor of hobbes still lingered in the air and she was thankful when Qrow pushed their dead bodies away from them.

With them away from them Joan was able to breathe a tad bit easier. She also noticed just how damned hungry she was; her stomach growled and she blushed as Qrow and Port looked towards her. "S-sorry…"

"Don't be. We can all use a bite to eat. Looks like that mutton will come to use sooner than I expected." Qrow grinned and pulled it out, handing each of them a good sized chunk. "Sorry it ain't my best cooking."

Port chuckled and took a giant bite, smacking his lips. Joan could spot a hint of meat grease on his large moustache and she took a bite of her own slice. It was good and filling, despite it not being the most succulent piece of meat she had ever tasted, but it was far from the worst. She tucked in and after a few quick bites it was all gone.

Port stood up with a groan, flexing his shoulders. "Ah, that hit the spot. All that's missing is a good cup of ale to wash it down."

"Trust you to think of drink," Qrow joked, earning a nudge in the stomach from the older man.

"Hmph." Port scoffed and helped Joan off of the ground. "Alright, everyone. Let's get going here; we still have a lot of ground to cover before we can call it a night and set up camp."

"Agreed." Joan was more than happy to get going. The further she got away from the monorail crash, the better; it was still very fresh in her mind and she didn't want to think about it anymore than she already had.

The path through the chasm winded around a pair of pools, the water crystal clear and showing no sign of being tainted by hobbes. It looked so calm, so peaceful to her. It would have been easy to lose herself in if it weren't for the fact that to get to this place, she had to witness at least two dozen people die in front of her.

Try as she might, she was still unable to keep it from eating away at her mind. Every time she closed her eyes she could see the monorail exploding and hearing the panicked screams as it plummeted to its horrible fate.

Joan's hands trembled and shook by her sides and she was very thankful for Zwei rubbing his head against her legs. He could sense her discomfort and tried his best to take that distress away. Right now, she needed it more than anything.

Joan started to notice how quiet everything was; she couldn't hear anything save for the steady dripping of water from the ceiling and soon she discovered the reason why. The hobbes had decided to stop charging them using no tactics.

They were on the other side of a pit, lining the ridge across from them with rifles. Their shots were high and wild, but one could admire their adaptability if they weren't so damned ugly and smelled like a rotten fish.

"Was wondering why none of the little buggers have charged us for awhile. They've been waiting to take us out from a distance. Surprisingly clever, coming from hobbes," Port remarked, ducking as a bullet soared over his head by a foot. "Well, we can have a shootout here or we can give them a taste of their own smart medicine and flank them. It's up to you."

Joan didn't have to think twice about her choice. "Flank them."

"Right. No point standing here collecting bullet holes. I've got I'm not using as is," Port said with a grumble. Joan led Port and Qrow along the cliffside path until they ran into another group of hobbes. These ones were light green colored and a little bigger than the mostly pale white ones they had fought, and they wore strange ornaments on their heads.

The creatures were seated in front of a large wooden structure with scraps of cloth dangling on the outside of it and Port chuckled. "Look at that. They seem to have made themselves a little castle. Isn't that adorable?"

"No, it isn't," Qrow muttered with an annoyed scoff. "These things can go rot for all I care." He casted his summon spell, making the shadowy warriors appear. "Take them down, boys."

On his command the summons leapt at the hobbes with glowing reds blazing in determination. Their swords would be the main attack while the rest of them picked them off from a distance.

Joan hit the closest hobbes with a pair of quick lightning spells, the magic frying their bodies. They disintegrated into piles of ash and bones, the blonde noticing that their skeletons were slightly fatter than human ones. _'Were they once people? It's all too easy to imagine some helpless villager getting dragged in here and being transformed into one.'_

She'd ask Qrow about them later on when she had a chance to.

One hobbe took a swipe at her with a iron axe, the edge just brushing against her leg. Not deep enough to be a bad wound, but one that would definitely sting for awhile. She bit back a wince of pain and kicked the hobbe away from her as hard as she could. Her foot connected with its crotch and she winced at the loud squeal of pain as it flew through the air. It tried to wobble back onto its squat feet and was put down for good with a powerful lightning blast to the face.

Joan took a few moments to inspect the wound on her leg. A slow trickle of blood was snaking down her thigh and she brushed it with her hand. Shallow and would heal almost instantly. Not worth wasting a valuable health potion on.

She ducked under a stray shot from one of the hobbes' rifles and responded with a single shot from her crossbow. The bolt sunk into its mouth and killed it before it had a chance to reload.

There was no time to catch their breath though, as a trio of much larger hobbes sprung into the fight. They were wearing red uniforms similar to the what the soldiers of the Albion Army wore and their weapons were much more dangerous. Steel battleaxes, perfect for cutting people in two, were laden in their hands and they roared before leaping at her.

There wasn't any time for her to reload and the blonde forsake her crossbow in favor of her sword. _'What the hell are these ones!? They look almost like soldiers!'_

She rolled under two clumsy strikes with ease, pointing behind the hobbe as if something were behind it. The creature turned around with a curious growl and Joan seized the opportunity to rapidly cut it down. Her sword tore through the hobbe's fat body and blood sprayed out of the fatal wound in its back. _'One down, two to go.'_

Qrow's summons disappeared and the older Hero grumbled as he reached for his own greatsword. "Damn. I was hoping I could keep them occupied for a little while longer." He took a heavy swing at the nearest hobbe, shattering its weapon. Shards of splintered metal flew everywhere and he grinned as he forced the creature onto its back and sank his sword through its stomach. Blood splashed up and he removed his foot from the hobbe's body, kicking it down a hill. "No matter how many times you hit them, they don't seem to get any prettier, do they?"

"Nope. Still great fun to shoot though," Port replied, cackling away as he fired his pistol at the smaller hobbes. They were running around in a panic with their stronger brethren dead, making them easy pickings for the three. One ran right into a gunpowder barrel and the resulting explosion took out another four, doing their job for them.

Once they were all dead, Joan sheathed her sword and looked at how their team was doing. Port had a cut on his cheek and one of Qrow's arms was starting to form a bruise, but apart from the minor injuries they seemed to be in perfectly fine shape.

"Alright, assuming the hobbes on that ridge didn't hear any of that, we can slip in and take them by surprise," Port said. "Let's go show those hobbes what all their planning has done."

Qrow and Joan followed him, all of them crouching to keep as quiet as possible, and they followed the dirty path until they were right behind the hobbes lining the ridge. They were grunting in confusion, unaware of the three humans right behind them with guns drawn.

"Fire!" Port yelled.

Before the hobbes could even turn around they were mercilessly slaughtered by a combination of gunfire, magic, and arrows. Port cackled at the display of death and pushed each one off of the ridge into the ravine below. "How's that!? You've been outsmarted and out-hobbe'd!"

Now, Joan could feel her exhaustion starting to get the better of her and her weariness was starting to show. Her movements in that last skirmish were sluggish at best and she was not going to be able to keep fighting in her current state. "Think we should call it a day and set up camp?"

"Hmm." Port frowned. "I suppose we could do with a few hours of rest. We all need to be sharp if we want to get out of here in one piece."

"Thank Avo for that," Qrow muttered, sitting down and pulling his shirt off. Sweat rolled down his body and Joan felt heat rush to her face as she caught herself staring at his toned chest for more than a few seconds. She turned away before Qrow noticed her looking and started to help get camp sorted out.

"Rotate sleep cycles," Qrow said as a bunch of makeshift bedrolls appeared courtesy of Klein, fitting his shirt back on. "I'll take first watch."

"Are you sure? I could keep going for a little bit," Joan offered. _'I doubt I'm going to be able to sleep anyway. Not without seeing that monorail falling again.'_

"Not a chance, Blondie." He shook his head. "You look dead on your feet. Get some sleep while you can."

Joan nodded in resignation and pulled the cloak provided over her head, letting Zwei snuggle in under it. She hoped sleep would come easy for her and she wouldn't have to see it anymore.

She was wrong, so terribly wrong.

 _ **A/N: Alright. I'm ending this one here for one reason. One, we're already at a very good length for this chapter and two, I don't want to rush the rest of this quest. So, this is a two-parter. Next up, we open up with the stuffing of life that is called fluff and explore even more into the region. Hope to see you soon!**_

 _ **C. Strife#5371**_


	12. Ancient Tremors

_**KA/N: Sorry for the delay in the chapter, but personal bullshit got in the way and it affected my writing. Hopefully though I can be back fulltime as I do enjoy writing this story.**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***Ancient Tremors***

Qrow spied a lone hobbe sniffing around the cliff opposite to their camp and within seconds his bow was in his hands. He slipped an arrow in and pulled the string back, breathing in before releasing. With a quiet whisper of a noise the arrow soared true and struck the creature in the middle of its forehead. _'These things are a heck of a lot smarter than most give them credit for. Though usually when there's one of them, there is more hiding. I doubt this bastard was alone.'_

He always held contempt for hobbes since he laid sight on them during an expedition to Greatwood with Jaune; they hadn't changed much in the last five hundred years in terms of appearance. Squat goblin-like creatures with an affinity for violence and a love for dark places, ambushing the careless adventurer or merchant whenever they pleased.

Qrow had been told the story of their origins when he was about fifteen and just joined the Heroes Guild; they were once children, lay astray by the sweet temptations of succubus nymphs and turned by their foul magic. Their humanity was forcibly stripped from them and they only knew violence and despair, holding a hatred for humans and all things that dwelled on the surface.

The raven-haired Hero hummed softly and patted his trusty bow. The weapon's augmentations, Devastation and Piercing, made it all the deadlier. A single shot was more than enough to drop a heavily armored bandit or even a balverine, and if he used his Multi Strike spell, that lone arrow became five at once capable of killing trolls. The only downside to the spell was that it used a lot of his magical power, draining sixty percent of his reserves. Even experienced mages had issues with using the spell effectively.

He lowered his bow and let it vanish from his hands, letting out a loud yawn. He had been on watch for the last five hours while Joan and Port slept and could feel the weariness eating away at his bones. His body still wasn't used to being able to handle the kind of stress that being a Hero came with and he resented it a little. It made him feel old and he was sure that wherever the hell Ozpin was, the master wizard was laughing about it. _'Curse you Ozpin.'_

Qrow crouched down to take a seat by the fire he and Port made a few hours ago, casting a glance at Joan. The blonde princess had not fallen into a peaceful slumber like he had hoped; instead she was twitching and whimpering in her sleep, clutching tightly at the cloak draped over her. _'Poor girl. It wasn't her first time being powerless to stop needless death. But I doubt she saw so many at once.'_ As much as he wanted to reassure her it would pass, it never would. To this day even he himself was somewhat haunted by the lives he had been forced to take so many hundreds of years ago.

He made his way over to her and she shot up with a gasp, cold sweat pouring down her pale face. She searched frantically as if expecting to catch an axe to the face and Qrow put his hands out for her. By Avo the girl was trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Hey, calm down. It's alright."

His soothing murmur seemed to have worked a little, but still her hands shook. "Sorry…I just can't sleep right. Not…not without seeing it again."

"I know. It's still fresh and will be for some time." Qrow pulled her in for a hug, letting her sniffle into his chest. "But sometimes, bad things just happen. When they do, you can either let them define you or grow stronger from it. Trust me, okay?"

"Okay…" Joan nodded with a muffled noise.

The older Hero ran a hand through her long blonde locks. "Try and get some sleep, princess. You need it."

Qrow went to go back out on his patrol when Joan grabbed his hand, her watery blue eyes pleading with him to stay. "Please…don't go…"

The raven haired man couldn't say no. Not at this time, when she needed it. "Okay. I'll stay."

He lied down and Joan immediately snuggled into his chest with a murmur. "Thank you..." Qrow felt a bit of heat rise to his cheeks at the way she was clinging onto him. It had been nearly five hundred years since he had done anything even remotely similar to this and he was absolutely positive Ozpin was definitely laughing at him. _'Oh shut up Ozpin. I can hear it from you already and you're not even here.'_

He started to hum a gentle tune to lull the blonde back to sleep, rubbing his hands up and down her back. He glanced up as Port stirred in preparation for his own shift, the old soldier's moustache ruffling at the sight of the two cuddling together. The two men shared a look that lasted a few seconds, but eventually Port just gave a subtle shrug and reached for the canteen around his belt that Qrow was pretty sure was filled with some form of liquor. He would take watch while Qrow watched over the princess.

He wasn't leaving her side tonight.

* * *

Joan let out an impatient whine as she felt something prod her in the stomach in an attempt to rouse her from what was now a peaceful sleep. It was rough and warm, making her assume it was someone's hand. It prodded her again, this time more persistent, and Joan clutched onto her pillow. Her hands slid up and down it and she kept her eyes shut, determined to not have to wake up. "Five more minutes…"

"Ahem." The irritating sound of a throat clearing got her attention and with an annoyed growl she reluctantly lifted her head to glare at the one who had disturbed her. She found herself staring into a single pale red eye lazily blinked open but there was no mistaking the amusement that glimmered within.

"Enjoying yourself, Blondie?" Qrow asked, his raspy voice thick with sleep.

Confused, she looked down to see that her 'pillow' was in fact Qrow's chest and her hands were just below his ribcage. The realization sunk in and she jumped back with an embarrassed squeak, nearly crashing into a curled up Zwei. "Q-qrow!"

As if Qrow's smirk wasn't enough, she could hear Ozpin howling with laughter in her head. _"You were clinging onto him tighter than a child hugs their teddy bear. I thought you said he annoyed you? Last I checked, you don't cuddle with someone who brings you any kind of distress."_

' _Shut up, Ozpin!'_ she sent back with a furious blush, covering her face as the immortal mage continued to cackle away. Qrow hadn't said anything; instead he propped himself up to lay on his side with a grin, making her turn even redder if it was possible. _'Now I'm never going to hear the end of it from you!'_

" _You didn't deny that he was comfortable,"_ Ozpin said cheekily. Old bastard was enjoying this way too damn much. She quickly averted her eyes as to not stare at Qrow's lean body and have to hear about it from him as well, choosing to instead give Zwei a nudge. The corgi lifted his head immediately, his tongue rolling out.

' _At least someone likes waking up.'_ The blonde rolled her eyes and sat up, feeling the sore spots in her back and shoulders. Despite being asleep for more than eight hours her body still felt heavy as if it were merely a twenty minute power nap. She rubbed the corners of her eyes and yawned, attempting to wake up.

She let out a groan and found her sword, lying next to her, and she clipped the sheath back on her belt before standing up. She gave a huge stretch and Qrow smirked at her. "What's the matter, princess? Still wishing you were using me as a pillow?"

"Hush, you." Joan huffed and turned away from him so he couldn't see her blushing face. She didn't object to his claim of her finding him comfortable, because they both knew it was a horrible lie. He was lean, yes, but that body of his was comfortingly warm. She could easily pass out on top of him without a problem. _'No, no, no! Do not think of that! So what if he's comfortable and handsome!? That does not mean I want to kiss him or anything!'_

" _Dunno, Joan. By the way you were cuddling him, I'd say you are moving towards that,"_ Ozpin teased. _"Ah, the sight of young love blossoming makes this old heart of mine soar."_

' _Ozpin, shut up or so help me Avo, I'm not helping you escape,'_ she thought back angrily, her eye twitching when she heard him merely laugh in response before cutting off the mental link. Dealing with Qrow's antics was enough of a handful for her; she did not need Ozpin adding any more on top of it.

' _The more I get to know him, the more I'm seeing in similarities between him and Qrow,'_ Joan thought dryly as she dusted her clothes off and approached Port. The old soldier was humming a cheerful tune as he fired at a single hobbe corpse and she recognized it as a tune used by the Albion Army to lift the spirits of the soldiers. "I'm up."

"Nice to see you awake." Port lowered his smoking pistol and stroked his moustache. "Was getting a little tired of shooting their corpses. No matter how many times you hit them, they don't get any prettier."

Joan looked across the gap and could see the amount of bullet holes her mentor had put into the still bodies. So much blood had been spilled that the ground on the other side of the cliffs was beginning to become sodden and crimson, staining the very earth itself. "I can tell you've been busy." _'Just how long was he out here doing this? No way he sat here and did this for four hours straight. Even I'd get bored after two.'_

"Indeed. A little target practice never hurts. In my age, I need everything I can to keep my skills up." Port laughed and patted the sides of his pants for his canteen. He sniffed its contents, seemingly disappointed it wasn't full of ale, but took a healthy jug from it anyway. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand and gave her a grin. "So, how are you feeling?"

Joan stretched and gave her back a little arch. "A little stiff. But I'm fine otherwise."

"Good to hear that. We've got a long ways to go before we reach Mourningwood," Port said. "And even then, it would be a day's hike to the fort."

"Mourningwood? Isn't that where the Swift Brigade is stationed?" Joan asked.

"The very same." Port nodded. "Those are the men and women your father and I fought alongside during his conquest of Albion. The very people who we want on our side. I'm sure you've noticed how the old guard has been completely thrown aside. The new soldiers only care about the coin that is flowing their way, not protecting the land or its people. The Swift Brigade is loyal, tough, and they are the best soldiers that this kingdom ever had. Logan must be out of his mind to simply push them away."

She winced. He wasn't wrong; she had seen the way the new soldiers Logan had gathered had been treating the townsfolk during her time in the castle. They were rude and abusive of the power granted to them, often using their status to exploit the general populace. _'A soldier is supposed to serve their country, not line their coffers with the gold of the people they swore to protect.'_

Qrow walked up to them with his hands on his head, one eye open. "So, that's our destination? Care to tell the rest of us what waits for us when we get there?"

"Mourningwood is a large swamp," Port explained. "However, there is a massive infestation of hollow men, most likely due to the cemetery's presence. A lot of brave men and women have died in those swamps and became wisps. The Swift Brigade was stationed there a month ago to try and prevent it from spreading, but from the reports I've heard when we were in the castle, it was not going to plan. They were getting eradicated. I just do hope they're still alive. Come nightfall, that swamp is one of the most dangerous places in all of Albion."

"Well, we are not going to find out by sitting here twiddling our thumbs," Qrow said. He slicked his bangs back. "So, what do you say we get a move on? I've had enough of this bloody cave already."

"Agreed." Joan nodded. She really didn't want to spend any more time in this dark empty void than she had to. She could see that Qrow had finished clearing up their camp in the time she had taken to talk to her mentor and had their supplies in a small knapsack. "Is that everything?"

"Yep. All of it is nice and secure." He patted it before it vanished, presumably taken by Klein. "Thanks, Klein. That is your name, right?"

"Correct," Klein replied through the Guild Seal.

"Nice to see I got it right." Qrow flashed Joan a smirk. "See? I pay attention to little things."

"You are insufferable," the blonde princess muttered, walking ahead of him with Zwei at her heels. Port and Qrow shared a laugh before falling in behind her as they proceeded through the caverns.

A few underground streams flowed through the cavern and as she progressed, she could start to feel a cool breeze. There was an exit somewhere nearby, but they couldn't let their guard down just yet. The end was usually the moment when the ground fell from beneath their feet. _'Can't relax right now. Not until we're out of here. By Avo I never want to see another hobbe cave for as long as I live.'_ She had enough of the little bastards to last a lifetime.

Joan looked around to make sure no hobbes were planning an ambush and continued along the dirty path until she reached a group of three hobbes. One of them was holding a magic staff in its hands and it cast a barrier in the cave entrance, the two red suited guards on either side of it pointing and laughing at her. Her lip curled up in a frustrated snarl. They found it funny!? _'That's it. I'm blasting you with every spell I know when I get over there.'_

She raised her hand and threw a lightning bolt at it, but it merely bounced off of the barrier and hit the ceiling. The impact sent a rain of dust onto her and she growled in frustration. "Dammit!"

Port and Qrow caught up to her and the old soldier grunted in annoyance, hands on his hips. "The little sod is blocking our way."

"You don't say." Joan rolled her eyes and fired her pistol at it, her annoyance getting the better of her. Behind their barrier, the hobbes continued to laugh at her failed attempts of breaking through. One of them made a rude hand gesture towards her and her already thin patience snapped, the blonde reaching for her sword. "That does it!"

Before she could give the barrier a good whack or two, Qrow stopped her. "Don't waste your time. Use your head and try to find another way around. A big cave system like this, there has to be one. Don't worry. Port and I can hold their attention long enough for you to slip in."

Joan looked around and saw a small lake to her right and groaned. She would have to get wet if she wanted to get out of here. _'Why can't this ever be easy for once?'_ She was honestly beginning to believe Ozpin was behind this as some sort of lame joke to test her patience. _'IF this is a test, then he sure as hell is winning.'_

Port had stormed up to the barrier, his large arms crossed over his broad chest. "You think you're so smart, standing behind your fancy magic, do you?" The hobbe tilted its head in confusion and Port stuck his middle finger up, brandishing it with crude gusto. "That's right, I'm talking to you!"

If Joan wasn't so damn irritated at the hobbes laughing at her, she'd have smirked. But right now, she was fuming. _'Screw worrying about getting wet. If it makes them shut up, then I'll gladly take a swim.'_

Zwei whined at her feet, not wanting to go for a swim, and she motioned for him to stay with Port and Qrow. "Stay on that side. Don't worry; I can handle myself." Zwei let out a happy bark, more than content to stay warm and dry. He ran off back towards Qrow and Port and Joan let out a sigh before wading in. "Well…this better be worth it."

The water was icy cold due to the lack of sunlight and she shivered as she swam across the cavern, feeling the weight of the water trying to pull her down. She was thankful when she made it to the other side and wrung out her shirt, rubbing her arms to warm back up. _'That was a lot colder than I expected. By Avo this cave sucks.'_

When she finished wringing out her clothes she drew her sword, creeping along in a crouch to minimize the amount of noise she made. After a few brief moments of crouching along the path she was rewarded by the glorious sight of three hobbes with their backs to her, completely oblivious to the Hero behind them with a sword drawn.

' _Now!'_ She leapt at the one keeping the barrier up and sank her sword through its back. The sharp blade easily tore through its clothing and flesh, protruding from its chest, and the hobbe dropped its staff in an attempt to clutch at the bloody sword stuck in it.

Joan pulled her sword out and spat on its corpse as the barrier fell and the two hobbes standing guard to it turned to shoot the blonde. Before they could aim their weapons, however, they were mercilessly cut down by a hail of gunfire and arrows. Qrow and Port gave her a smile as they joined her, Port kicking one of the bodies on his way over.

"Smart enough to use magic, but not smart enough to wear their bloody pants the right way around. Try explaining that," he said with a huff. He walked on ahead and Qrow chuckled at the sight of the still wet princess.

"Have a nice swim?" he asked with a cheeky grin. Joan growled and resisted the urge to smack that smug look off his face.

"No," she snapped back, wringing out her skirt again. "It was bloody cold and I nearly froze my backside off."

Qrow of course made a point to look around her to catch a glimpse. "Hm. Your backside looks fine to me. More than fine, in my personal opinion."

"Qrow!" Joan blushed and covered her rear. By Avo this man had made her blush easily twice as much as Yang had when the two were together. If she was still alive, Joan could see the two getting along very well, making it their mission to make the princess squirm as much as possible for their own enjoyment.

"What? I thought you preferred it if I never told a lie." Gods, that smile was contagious. Even if he was teasing her, having him around did lighten the mood considerably. His presence took the edge off of their situation and she had to admit it was comforting.

Something she'd never say to him out loud. She didn't want him to have another thing to hang over her head. It would only serve the purpose of supplying him with even more blackmail material.

" _Plus he's not wrong."_ Ozpin cackled. _"You do have quite lovely assets."_

' _Stop. Talking.'_ Joan shut off the mental link with the immortal mage before he could laugh at her for once again playing herself right into Qrow's hands. She was now starting to wonder if they had a mental link to each other. It was either that, or the two men knew each other way too damn well.

She bit back a shiver and hurried after Port, who was ten meters ahead of them. "Come on, don't fall behind." The blonde tried to hide her blushing face as she caught up with her mentor, Qrow and Zwei not far behind.

Port stopped at the end of what appeared to massive stone bridge, his moustache ruffling in surprise. "Now this…this I did not expect. It looks as if there was some sort of massive city down here once."

Joan peered out into the vast chasm and saw he was right. Several large stone structures filled the chamber, touching the very tips of the stalactites. "Wow…who do you suppose could have built it? Surely not the hobbes?"

"Hah. Not bloody likely." Qrow laughed. "They're not building anything with those stubby little fingers." A large swarm of bats chattered above and Joan readied a spell in her hands, fingertips crackling with lightning. She glanced at Qrow and he was shaking his head.

"Don't waste your time," he said. "They're too far above you and aren't a threat."

The blonde lowered his hands and let her magic fade. He was right; they weren't worth the effort. Despite it though, she felt an amused grin form on her face. "Don't know about that now. Klein would say otherwise."

"I repeat what I said back when we were escaping, madam. Bats are filthy creatures and I prefer being clean at all times," Klein said from the seal. "My hatred of them is merely a matter of hygiene."

"Sure it is." Qrow smirked. "Keep telling yourself that if it helps you get any rest at night. Just remember that bats are nocturnal." Klein's only response the continuous jabs from the two Heroes was to simply sigh.

Ahead of them, Port stopped at a crumbling tower that blocked most of the road. The only spot not blocked off was near the very edge and the old soldier frowned, stroking his moustache. "Hmm. Seems we have a bit of a barricade. And we need to get down there." He pointed to where the path continued into some sort of makeshift arena that looked abandoned.

Joan studied it next to him, biting her lip. The edge of the cliff was crumbling away and when Joan took a step closer, her boots sent gravel and dirt down into the inky chasm. _'We're not getting around it and I'm not sure if my magic is strong enough to destroy it. Our swords won't do much damage, either.'_

"Any ideas?" she asked, looking at the two men.

"Hmm." Port continued to stroke his impressive facial hair as he studied it. "Well, we can always attempt to climb over it. Damn thing doesn't look like it's going to budge any time soon, so it should be sturdy enough to hold our weight."

Qrow raised an eyebrow and let his hands become alive with fiery magic. "Hm, let me see if I can blast through it. My magic is stronger than Blondie's here." The princess didn't bother objecting to that claim because she knew he was right. He had honed his power over years of use, whereas she had only been using her magic for only about a month. She didn't have anywhere near his amount of magical power.

She and Port stood back to give him room and let him work. Qrow's red eyes were closed as he concentrated and he inhaled before letting out a deep exhale. On the exhale his magic burst from his fingertips in a spectacular blaze, blasting through the thick stone tower. The half closest to the cliffside rolled off the road and plummeted into the abyss with a loud crash, shaking the cavern.

Joan whistled at the display and peered over the cliffside to see if she could spot the part of the column that fell. All she could see after a few hundred meters was inky darkness. _'Good thing none of us tried anything risky like trying to go around it or climb it. Could've had a nasty fall and died in here.'_

Being a Hero seemed to get more and more perilous with each day. How her father lived as long as he had with the dangers he dealt with, she didn't know. Every day was fraught with perils and she had to use her powers to get through them alive to unite the people and lead a rebellion against her brother.

' _Each step is a step closer to getting out of here. This damn cave is starting to get on my nerves.'_ The blonde huffed as she walked along the path Qrow cleared out for them, her eyes constantly searching for any possible threats. They hadn't been attacked by any hobbes for quite some time now and it was starting to unsettle her. She couldn't help but feel as though they were about to walk right into an ambush of sorts. _'I don't like this. We're nearly at the end, but that's usually when the ground falls out from under our feet. And why is it so damn quiet?'_

Port grunted next to her, his hand on the handle of his longsword. "I don't like this. Have you noticed how bloody quiet it is down here? Almost like we're walking into an ambush."

She had seen how the hobbes tried to take them out from a distance yesterday and knew that the old soldier was not just being a paranoid old bastard. They were much cleverer than one gave them credit for. Definitely smart enough to lie in wait and surprise attack them when their guard was lowered, and she didn't like it.

"Me neither," she agreed. Her magic came to life again and she slowly proceeded down until they reached the bridge leading to the coliseum. The bridge itself was much sturdier than the rest of the road they were on, supported by massive stone columns two meters thick and seemingly going down forever. Whatever this place once was in the past, it must have taken hundreds or thousands of years to build.

Zwei's ears flattened against his head and he started to growl. His teeth were bared and he ran off ahead of them towards the arena, barking angrily.

"Zwei! Wait!" Joan ran after him into the arena, not hearing Qrow's yells for her to stop, and she caught up to her corgi in the middle of the circular structure. The princess picked him up and scowled, brushing his fur. "What's gotten into you? You shouldn't run off like that!"

The ground started to quake and Joan cried out in surprise as she lost her balance. Zwei fell from her hands and Qrow helped her up. "You alright?"

"Fine. What the hell is going on?" she asked. "Is it an earthquake?"

A loud roar echoed through the cavern and the ground in the middle of the arena started to churn. It was as if something underground was trying to escape from its earthy prison. Something big.

"Get back!" Qrow pushed her aside and she looked up to see a massive hulking creature spring up from the ground. Thick tendrils spewed from its body, glowing red, and she could see the beast's glittering blue eyes blazing with hatred through a thick mane of roots and dirt as it towered over them, easily seven meters tall and about five meters wide.

"W-what the hell is that!?" She had never seen such a creature before and she flinched away when it roared again, its foul breath spewing from its ugly mouth.

"It's a troll!" Port drew his sword and took up a position next to Qrow. "I thought the bloody things were extinct! Your brother saw to it!"

"What do you mean!?" Joan ducked as the troll chucked a large and heavy boulder at her. It soared over her head and smashed into one of the coliseum walls, breaking into several pieces and shaking the structure. She was thankful it missed; one hit from that and she'd be a goner.

"He led a crusade against them about five years ago!" Port yelled over the chaos. "He hunted each and every one of the damn things down with the Arkwright Brigade!"

"Well clearly not all of them," Qrow snapped over his shoulder, cutting through one boulder with a heavy downward slash. "One of them must have escaped his extermination!"

"How about we stop talking and work to take this damn thing down?" Joan suggested, rolling to her right to avoid another one thrown at her. "What are its weak spots?"

"Aim for the tendrils!" Qrow replied. "Destroy them and it'll die! Otherwise it's invulnerable!"

' _Well great. Why the hell did this cave just have to have something in it that was supposed to be extinct in it?'_ The princess rolled her eyes. "Got it!" She didn't bother reaching for her sword; the tough metal wouldn't do anything against the troll's incredibly thick hide.

She had to use her magic and her ranged weaponry to take it down.

One of its beefy arms swung at her and she moved out of the way to avoid being crushed. The impact crater where she was a second ago was deep and she panted. This bloody thing was going to put them through the ringer. She could hear Port spewing curses at the monster as he fired at its exposed nerve tendrils with his pistol, most of his bullets hitting its tough skin.

However, a few lucky shots struck one of the nerves on its body and it roared in pain. The troll sucked in its remaining nerves and stood up fully, slamming its arms onto the ground to create a powerful shockwave that knocked them all back.

Joan got up with a wince and glanced to see that Port was struggling to stay on his feet. As the oldest of their trio, he would take more time to recover from blows like that. If they didn't finish it off soon, the troll would continue to wear them down until it was able to kill them. _'This doesn't look good. At the rate we're going…'_

" _Focus,"_ Ozpin commanded. _"Use your power. Your magic is strong, but you have only unlocked a fragment of its potential. Focus your blood until you can truly feel the power running through your veins."_

' _But I have!'_ Joan sidestepped another heavy attack and blasted a tendril with her lightning spell. The troll screamed in pain again and lumbered around to crush her. Once more it missed, but the force of the blow still took her off her feet.

" _You've only harnessed your command over the force of lightning. Think about fire. What does it do?"_

' _I don't know, it burns things?'_

" _Yes, but what else can it do?"_ Ozpin pressed.

' _Is now really the time!?'_ Joan got back to her feet and spat out a mouthful of dirt, grimacing. Her body was starting to feel the wear and tear on it from battling this accursed thing and she didn't know how much longer she'd last. Port was already down and Qrow was moving around more than she had ever seen him move.

" _Now is as best of a time as any. Think, Joan. Fire does more than just destroy,"_ Ozpin said calmly.

Joan thought about it and she remembered something from her late father. He was practicing his own fire spells and she had studied him with fascination. It was beautiful watching the way he commanded the elements and once he was done, he took her aside and showed her the other uses for his spell.

" _Fire, Joan, is a powerful and dangerous element of magic. It has the power to destroy everything in its path with a ravenous hunger. However, fire can cleanse the world of impurities. In its ashes comes new life, new beginnings. Sometimes, to begin anew, one must destroy what is. Never forget that, my dearest daughter."_ Those were the very words he had said, so many years ago.

' _It purifies,'_ she realized. _'It can purge that which doesn't belong!'_

" _Exactly. This abomination is one such creature that does not belong in this world anymore. Its time has long since run out,"_ Ozpin replied. _"Use your magic not as a means to destroy it, but to cleanse the land of its existence."_

' _I understand.'_ The blonde took a deep breath, focusing not on the sounds of battle, but of the magic pouring through her body. It pulsed and throbbed beneath her skin, desperate to lose its shackles and pour freely.

A fiery red aura cloaked her, hot air swirling around. When she opened her eyes again, she let loose a deadly barrage of fiery magic. The inferno struck the troll's body and it roared in pain as the intense flames hungrily devoured its nerve tendrils, burning them to ashes. The behemoth stumbled around, its body still alight, and it let out one last roar before it crashed into the ground with a loud thump. The flames died down and its blackened body didn't so much as twitch. The troll was dead.

Joan fell to her knees, using her hands to keep herself from falling into the dirt, and panted. Her vision swam as she struggled to stay conscious. Using her power like that had drained her magical reserves completely. _'What…what was that?'_

" _That, Joan, is an example of the Hero you can become,"_ Ozpin replied. _"Not many Heroes ever learned that spell, I can assure you. It is called, 'Archon's Cleansing'. A powerful wave of fire that burns all impurities in its wake. Only four others were strong enough to use it."_

' _Who?'_ she asked.

" _Myself, a master wizard named Garth, Qrow, and Jaune,"_ the immortal wizard answered.

' _Jaune? He used it?'_ Her strength slowly started to come back to her and she managed to drag herself up off of the ground. _'But how was I able to use it? My magic reserves aren't big enough for it.'_

" _It is because of our connection. You and I are able to communicate thanks to my own very powerful magic,"_ he explained. _"My power can more or less transfer to you briefly, and vice versa. However, I must urge you to not use Archon's Cleansing again until you need to and have recovered. That is a very old and very powerful spell that can drain anyone unconscious. If you're not careful, you could end up losing control of your flames and your magic will spiral into disaster."_

' _No kidding. That blast felt like it could take out half the castle if it were in the wrong hands,'_ she thought back. _'How long have we been connected this way?'_

" _Since you first touched the Guild Seal."_

' _And why am I only hearing about this now?'_

" _Because it was not necessary for you to know at the time. I knew there would come a time when you would need to know in order to overcome a great adversity. And now you are aware,"_ Ozpin said.

'… _thank you. I wouldn't have done that without you.'_ Joan stood up a little straighter as her strength slowly returned.

" _More than you know."_ Ozpin laughed. _"A good leader must be willing to take on new trials and face the unknown. Your defeat of the hobbes and troll here will make their way through the land and you'll find more people willing to fight beside you."_

He vanished, leaving her alone in her mind once more, and she hobbled over to Qrow. The older Hero was smiling broadly and he tossed her a potion to restore her magic reserves. "That was pretty damn impressive. I'm rather proud of that."

"Thank you." She fought back a blush as he praised her and downed the potion, trying not to grimace at the taste. It still tasted just as terrible as she remember, but she didn't cough any of it up this time. _'Somehow, I seriously doubt I'll ever get used to how vile this rubbish tastes.'_

She finished it without protest and looked to see a tunnel with sunlight streaming through it. "Look, over there! There's a way out!"

"Ah, about bloody time," Port said with a grumble, limping over to them. He had a few bruises on his face and he was favoring one of his legs, but otherwise he looked fine. "I've had enough of this bloody place." Zwei barked in agreement.

With the troll dead the three of them, battered but not beaten, made their way to the tunnel to once again taste the open air.

Joan had never been so happy to see sunlight before.

 _ **A/N: And that ends the Mistpeak arc. Next up, a favorite of mine, Mourningwood. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hopefully can pump out another chapter before the end of January. I'll see you again next time!**_

 _ **A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	13. Legion of the Damned

_**A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter 13! We're finally in the Mourningwood section of the Fable 3 storyline, which introduces possibly my one of my favorite side characters in Ben Finn. God I can't wait until we reach Bowerstone so I can introduce Reaver…XD**_

 **Joan Arc's Legend**

 _Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it._

 ***Legion of the Damned***

When Joan emerged from the massive cave system of Mistpeak and took her first steps into Mourningwood, the first thing she was aware of was the humidity and a strange buzzing. It was hot and sticky, though she should have expected it. Mourningwood was a massive swamp in the middle of Albion, full of an assortment of creatures.

She wiped newly formed beads of sweat off of her forehead, tugging the collar of her shirt in an attempt to get some airflow. _'By Avo it's bloody hot. How does one stand this mugginess without losing their bloody mind?'_ If it was any consolation, Zwei didn't look too thrilled either. The giant hobbe cave may have been filled with the repugnant beasts, but at least it was nice and cool.

Port stood next to her and he took in a deep breath, ruffling his moustache. "Ah the sunlight. You can almost smell it. Isn't it wonderful? The damp, muggy, soggy sunlight. This is Mourningwood and I hope the Swift Brigade is still alive."

"You think they're all dead?" Joan asked.

"They very well could be." Port nodded. "Come nightfall, this is one of the most dangerous places in all of Albion. It's not just the occasional hobbe pack or hollow men you have to look out for, either. I've heard rumors of the place hiding creatures from Albion's past. It's only a rumor of course, but one can never be too cautious here."

"What kind of creatures?" Qrow asked, his hands behind his head. "Surely the damn scorpions aren't still around are they?"

"Scorpions?" The blonde tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Long ago, the region of Greatwood was full of them. They were said to have been born in fire with a hatred of nearly everything and were about the size of your average wolf," Qrow explained. "However, there was one called Arachnox that lived in the Witchwood Arena that was the size of a house. It was what awaited the Heroes who made it to the last round of the tournament, though it was eventually slain by Jaune when he took part in it. Let me tell you, I did not envy him one bit when he had to face that monster."

"No, not scorpions from what I've heard," Port replied, shaking his head. "No, something that is possibly even worse. A succubus nymph."

Joan noticed Qrow visibly pale at the name and she looked at him in concern. "What's wrong?" _'Why would he react like that at the mention of one?'_

"You remember that curse you freed me from?" Qrow murmured. "It was a succubus nymph that placed it on me." His hands trembled and clenched into fists. "I doubt it's the same one, but they're all just as bad. Most of the time they're the ones who lead children astray into caves with their sweet whispers and turn them into hobbes."

Joan felt an uneasy feeling form in her stomach and it wasn't because of how damned muggy it was. "You mean…you mean to tell me that what we killed in that cave were once children?" _'No wonder their skeletons looked so similar to human ones when I killed them with my magic. They used to be people. By Avo.'_

"Once upon a time, yes." Qrow nodded. "Those ones had time to multiply so it's doubtful that all of them were once human. The older ones for sure. Blasted nymphs. Even today they're still around. I'd have assumed they were driven to extinction."

"They mostly are," Port replied. "Only a few sightings have been confirmed. The region of Wraithmarsh to the southwest supposedly has a few lingering about in the marsh's deepest recesses, but due to the lack of sane people travelling there, it's hard to be certain. And the people who call Mourningwood home aren't exactly the most intellectual types. None of the soldiers have reported one, only the bloody gypsies who live on the far side of the swamp."

"Gypsies?" Qrow raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Who the hell are they?"

"Nature lovers. Claim we belong to the earth and all of that rubbish." Port let out an unimpressed snort. "I don't know all about that, but I'm starting to get a rash just by standing here talking. Bloody swamp."

Joan was also starting to feel a little itchy and she let out a grumble as she scratched at her arm. Yep, she decided she liked the hobbe cave more than Mourningwood and she had only been in the swamp for about ten minutes or so. At least she didn't sweat her backside off just by standing still.

She took a careful whiff of her clothes and nearly gagged. It would take hours before the smell of swamp water and sweat was properly purged from them. _'That's it. First chance I can, I'm taking a hot bath and eating a bowl of soup.'_

" _How about you invite Qrow? It sounds like a perfect opportunity to get nice and cozy with him,"_ Ozpin suggested cheekily.

' _Shut up, Ozpin. I do not like him like that.'_ Joan rolled her eyes and hid her blush. _'Please just stop with that already for the love of Avo. You're going to drive me insane!'_

" _Isn't that what my job is?"_ Ozpin asked with a laugh. _"I'm merely offering you advice like I always do. My expertise is not simply confined to the realm of magic. I'm rather gifted in the art of relationships, if I say so myself."_

' _Stop. Talking.'_ Her face was burning and it wasn't because of the damn humidity. Ozpin and Qrow were too alike for her liking. Both enjoyed messing with her and were rather attractive men despite both being well over four centuries old. They kept their youthful appearance but had untold amounts of wisdom, aiding her when she needed it. If only they stopped teasing her for their own enjoyment.

' _Both of them are exactly the same,'_ she thought dryly. "Better get a move on while we still have some sunlight."

"Agreed." Port nodded. "Come on, there should be a trail or something up ahead. I hope neither of you mind the mud."

"Ha. Don't make me laugh." Qrow let out an unimpressed snort and started to follow the old soldier. Joan and Zwei fell in behind them, the princess taking a good look around at their surroundings. The trees were covered in thick vines and smelly moss, giving them an unusual and pungent aroma. The leaves of the trees were vibrant green and up above she could see a murder of crows in them, cawing angrily at them as they passed.

' _Oh do shut up.'_ She scowled at the birds and for a moment was tempted to shoot at them with her pistol or blast them with her magic. It would be satisfying to make them shut up, though she didn't want to deal with the howling laughter she'd inevitably hear from both Ozpin and Qrow when they saw her shooting at a bunch of birds. _'If neither of them were here, I'd do it.'_ At least none of crows left their droppings on her. _That_ would have been really embarrassing and something Ozpin would tease her about until she dropped dead from the constant torment.

Joan tried her best to ignore their angry squawks and followed Port through the swamp. Her boots constantly sank into muddy water, some of it splashing onto her skirt. The stench of it was enough to make her gag more than once and she pinched her nose, trying to ignore how warm and slimy it felt. _'This is disgusting. How the hell do the soldiers here put up with this!? How can anyone even want to live here!?'_

Instead of thinking about how disgusting the water felt on her body, she attempted to think of how nice and relaxing a hot bath would be once they reached the fortress where the Swift Brigade were stationed. A nice soak in the Sanctuary would be just the thing to help her relax after a rough couple of days of trudging through a giant hobbe cave and a bloody swamp. _'I honestly cannot wait for it. It would be nice to sit in a warm bath and just relax for an hour or two.'_

They eventually reached a weather beaten path and Port let out a groan of content. "About bloody time. I was getting tired of wading through that foul muck."

"You and me both," Joan muttered. She shielded herself as Zwei shook droplets of water out from his fur, jumping back to prevent any of the foul smelling liquid from landing on her. "Zwei! Not on me!" _'When I said to Port that I wanted to be a Hero, I never imagined that we would spend nearly this much time wading through muck and sewers. Seems to be all we've done so far.'_

Qrow shook his head, letting out a sigh and shielding his eyes from the powerful sunlight. "So, old man, does this place have any other nice surprises waiting for us? Apart from harboring a succubus nymph, hobbes, hollow men, and utterly reeks." Nice to see that Joan wasn't the only one who wasn't a fan of this place. Qrow thought it was bloody awful as well.

"Don't worry," Port said reassuringly. "Now that we're on what appears to be a proper path, we shouldn't have to get dirtier than we already are. Ground's a little drier here, meaning people have been passing through. That's a good sign."

Joan and Qrow shared an exasperated glance. It was clear that neither of them shared the old soldier's optimism. They had only been in the swamp for what could have been thirty or so minutes and already they hated it more than the hobbe cave they left behind. _'Even Qrow hates it and he walked around in the Mistpeak mountains like they were refreshing. Compared to this damn swamp, they are. At least the air wasn't humid up in the mountains like it is here.'_

She honestly wasn't sure whether the damp stains on her shirt were from the swamp water splashing up on her or just sweat at this point. _'I don't particularly care to find out. All I know is that it bloody reeks and I am taking a bath as soon as we reach the Mourningwood fortress.'_

The path led them over an ancient stone bridge covered in a thin layer of smelly moss. As they walked over it to the other side of the trail, Port let out a hearty laugh. "We made a damn good team back in that cave, didn't we? It's been awhile since I got stuck in a proper fight. It was just like fighting by your father's side, Joan. I'd forgotten what it was like to fight with a Hero."

"How long has it been since you last fought alongside him?" Joan asked. "I assume it was before Logan and I were born."

"It was." Port nodded, a dreamy look settling in his weary old eyes. "Our last battle was during his conquest of Albion, back when we fought to unite Bloodstone under our banner. The vicious bastards put up one hell of a fight. Pirates are nasty fighters. However they were no match for your father and I. We held fast against their counterattacks and sank every last one of their blasted ships with mortar fire. Took a few days though; Bloodstone is a large city. To gain control of it is no easy task, even for a Hero."

"What exactly is Bloodstone?" Qrow queried. "I can't say I've heard of it, not even a mention of it in the few books I've read to catch up on Albion's history."

"Bloodstone is a port city to the southwest built on the remains of Twinblade's old bandit camp, surrounded by ocean on one side and Wraithmarsh on the other three," Port explained. "It's a lawless city, where the locals take justice into their own hands should you commit an offense and prostitution runs rampant. It used to be run by one of King Logan's own advisors, Reaver. Until fifty years ago he was known as the Pirate King. However he decided to leave it and become one of Logan's advisors regarding the royal treasury. Reaver is not just a mere pirate; he is also the Hero of Skill. He was instrumental in taking down Lord Lucien."

"Hmm." Qrow pursed his lips. "I can't say that this bloke sounds all too favorable. He seems like he only cares about how much gold he can put in his pocket."

"Quite so, I'm afraid." Port nodded sadly. "Logan handed him complete control of Bowerstone's Industrial quarter. His business practices and policies are barbaric at best. Forcing children to work in factories, giving out meager wages, the whole lot. Logan must have lost his bloody mind when he handed Reaver control."

"Why hasn't anyone done something about it?" Qrow asked in disgust.

"What makes you think they haven't tried?" Port snorted. "Reaver is a master marksman, capable of picking off someone a mile away with rough seas. If anyone so much as murmurs a complaint, he makes a public example out of them. Whenever Logan asks, Reaver just makes up some nonsense about them inciting a riot and no further questions are asked."

Joan was quiet, thinking about the day she had left the castle behind. That day, she had been told that a worker had been executed for standing up for one of the children working in the factory. She didn't want to believe it and thought it was at first nothing more than a wild rumor. But as proven by Logan later on, it was fact. Their own people were dying for the sake of the greedy few.

' _This has to end. I can't allow my people to suffer like this. This is just horrible. Our father would be disappointed in you, Logan.'_ Joan shook her head, continuing to follow Port through the swamp. The ground had turned into a set of hard wooden planks, presumably put down by the soldiers stationed here. It certainly beat walking along a muddy old path where her feet would sink in a few inches with each step.

A few insects buzzed in her ears and the blonde swatted them away, huffing a little. The gnats and flies seem to be drawn to her the most much to her annoyance. Qrow and Port didn't seem to be fazed by them at all. Instead, both of them were merrily humming a rather upbeat tune while she swatted at insects.

The strange buzzing that had started upon their entry into the region seemed to grow even louder and Joan could've sworn she heard something like the laughter of children up ahead. "Wait. Do you hear that?" _'That sounds…human. But what sort of child would come all the way out here? This doesn't make any sense!'_

Qrow and Port stopped to listen and the older Hero's face paled. "Oh no…I really was hoping we wouldn't run into it." He carefully drew his greatsword, the broad blade gleaming in the sunlight, and his red eyes darted around nervously.

"What's wrong?" Joan drew her own sword, her other hand alive with magic.

"It's a succubus nymph," Qrow answered hoarsely. "Be on your guard. This is how they lure people into traps."

The giggling grew louder and louder with each step, their boots making the wooden planks creak and groan under their weight. The air became thick with unease and Joan nearly let out a scream as a strange ball of light flew in front of them. It was fast, faster than any bird she had seen.

Its giggling stopped and it hovered briefly in front of them before turning into a small child-like creature with gleaming black eyes and light grey skin. A pair of wings grew out of its back and it let out a harsh hiss, pointing at Qrow with a jagged talon. _"You…you are no longer stone! Impossible!"_

Qrow let out a growl, bringing his claymore up. "You. It's certainly been a long time, hasn't it? Almost five hundred years if my memory is correct." This was the very same nymph that had cursed him, Joan realized with a start.

" _How!? How are you free!?"_ the nymph shrieked, its face contorting with uncontrollable rage. _"That curse was supposed to be unbreakable! Only a soul mate could end it!"_

Wait, what? Soul mate?

' _Oh...'_ The realization sunk in and her cheeks started to flush bright red. So that's why her shooting him when he was still a garden gnome freed him from his curse. She was destined for him. The succubus nymph had assumed that Qrow's soul mate had long since passed, meaning the curse it put him under would have been unbreakable. But it was. She broke it.

' _That means…oh Avo.'_ She felt the urge to let out a groan. All she wanted in life was to be a Hero like her ancestor. That desire of hers certainly came with a lot of cobwebs attached to it. _'Now I'm never going to hear the end of it. I managed to free him from his curse because I'm his bloody soul mate. Why can't this ever be simple?'_

Joan snapped out of her miniature stupor by the sound of Qrow swinging his claymore. The heavy blade managed to catch the nymph, who had narrowly avoided being cleaved in two. It shrieked in rage as sticky blood trickled down the side of its face and flew up above them, talons alive with fiery magic. _"I'll see you all burn!"_

A fireball launched at Port and Qrow shoved him out of the way, spinning his sword to deflect the fiery attack. "Keep moving! Don't let it hit you!"

"Yeah, because I was planning on that," Joan muttered dryly, hoping that Qrow would mistake her blush for anger. She threw a pair of lightning bolts at the nymph, but the smaller creature was very agile. It evaded each blast of magic with ease, cackling madly. Its eyes glowed with power and it leapt for her with its claws aiming for her throat. Joan brought her sword up to block it, struggling to keep her footing as the wooden planks beneath her feet groaned in protest. They threatened to give way under her weight and she headbutted the nymph. The creature was sent staggering back, hissing in fury.

" _Die!"_ the nymph rasped, lunging back at her. Joan rushed to meet it with her Time Control spell, lunging forward with a counterattack. The sword cut through its tough grey skin and it shrieked in pain. Dark red blood oozed slowly from the cuts and its dragonfly-like wings carried it back into the air, dodging a flurry of spectral arrows from Qrow.

Dark purple magic swirled around its body and Qrow shoved her out of the way. "Move!" A tower of thorny plants erupted from the ground where she stood not even a second before. The nymph cackled and dodged a few bullets from Port, proving far too agile for them to hit with any sort of ranged attack. They had to deal with it either with magic or get up close to it, which was not an easy task.

"Slow it down!" Qrow hissed, loosing another series of arrows at it. "I'll keep it busy."

"Got it." Joan began to focus her magic, her hands coming to life with Time Control. If the damn thing wanted to be a nuisance to hit, then she had to use it to take away its agility advantage. Her magic hummed and coursed through her body until she released the spell, slowing time down to a crawl for everyone except her and Qrow.

"Now!" Qrow dragged the tip of his claymore behind him, bringing it up over his head for a heavy downward slash. Joan attacked from the other side with a piercing thrust and the two Heroes cleaved the nymph in two. Its pained shrieks were oddly distorted by the Time Control spell and the two halves of the vile creature fell onto the ground slowly as if they were moving through sand.

The spell wore off, the world returning to normal, and Port gave the nymph's remains a few extra shots for good measure. It was most certainly dead, but for once Joan didn't feel like getting on the old soldier's case about his habit of shooting corpses. Not when it revealed quite an interesting and complicated truth about Qrow's curse.

' _So it wasn't because I was a Hero. It was because I'm his soul mate. It was destined. Ozpin, did you know about this?'_ she thought.

" _I did not. I can see many things, but I did not gain the ability to see into the future until I came in contact with the Tattered Spire. Even then, I did not know. I, like you, had assumed that Qrow's true soul mate had died a very long time ago,"_ Ozpin answered quietly.

Joan watched as Qrow stomped as hard as he could on what remained of the succubus nymph's face, grimacing as it made a very wet squelching sound. Blood and bits of brain matter flew everywhere and she covered her mouth to prevent a nauseous burp from releasing. _'Disgusting. He really does not like those things, does he?"_

" _Would you find a creature that cursed you and made you suffer for almost five hundred years pleasant company?"_ Ozpin pointed out dryly.

'… _okay you have a point there,'_ Joan admitted, stepping over the remains of the creature. The humidity grew worse and worse as they neared towards an ancient stone structure. It looked centuries old, perhaps built in an age long forgotten. Several flags bearing the crest of the Albion Army dangled from its walls and even from a distance Joan could spot several sentries patrolling the top of the fortress.

"There's the place up ahead. What I wouldn't do for a bowl of soup and a hot bath right about now," Port said, groaning in content as he flexed his stiff old muscles.

"You and me both," Joan agreed. She had already had enough of this blasted swamp. Between the damned humidity and the succubus nymph they just killed, it was far from what she would call a pleasant experience. Her dress was torn in places from being caught on thorny bushes and reeked of swamp water. It would take Klein ages to get rid of that bloody stench.

The soldier standing guard to the heavy wooden barricade glared at them through the mist covering the fortress in a wet blanket, his musket ready to fire. "Cease your movement! Be you men, or be you hollow men!?"

Port rolled his eyes and glared back at the young man, impatiently tapping his foot. "Have you gone daft, boy? Open the bloody doors before I kick them down, you imbecile."

That got the soldier's attention and he peered at them more closely. "Port? Is that you?"

"The very same," Port answered dryly. "Now are you going to let us in or just let us stand in this muck?"

"Oh right, of course." The soldier coughed a few times to regain his composure and turned to yell into the fort. "Open the gates! Tell Major Swift: Port's here!"

The heavy wooden gates of the fortress swung open and the two guards standing alongside it saluted at the sight of Port. "Welcome, Sir Port!"

"Sir!"

Joan and Qrow followed Port inside the fortress, the barricade closing behind them, and Joan looked over her shoulder as a heavy log of wood snugly fit into the locks. Security must have been a serious issue for such heavy fortifications.

The old soldier smiled broadly and approached a middle aged man in the ornate uniform of an officer. He too had an impressive moustache and in his hand was a lit pipe that he quickly stuck into his mouth.

"There he is. The one and only Major Swift." Port shook his hand. "A pleasure to see you again, old friend."

"Port! What in the blazes are you doing here?" Major Swift asked, puffing out a cloud of fragrant smoke. "I haven't heard from you in weeks."

"We came looking for you," he explained. "I have a proposition for you."

A young blonde man standing at Swift's side snorted and glanced over in his direction. "You came all this way to proposition us? And here I thought you were here to save us from the legions of the damned."

"Ben Finn. It's good to see you're still in one piece too." Port grinned for a moment, but it quickly faded at the sight of several tombstones near the entrance to the fort. "I take it the stories about this place are true then."

"I'll say." Major Swift snorted. "I've never seen so many bloody hollow men in one place before. We've been stationed here for weeks trying to eradicate them. Mainly, it's been us getting eradicated. We lost some good men last night, including Lieutenant Simmons there. And the buggers will be back tonight."

"Logan always loves to send you on the best assignments, doesn't he? That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about." Port beckoned for Joan to take a few steps closer. She had been idling behind him, not wanting to be rude and interrupt their conversation.

"Is that…?" Swift's eyebrow rose.

"The princess, yes. I'll explain," Port promised. "Just treat her like any other pair of hands for now."

"Very well." Swift nodded and faced the blonde. "Captain Finn will show you to the mortar. We could use a body or two up there."

"Meet me on the wall when you're ready," Ben said. "I'll introduce you to Private Jammy. So called because he's the luckiest sod in the fort."

"Right." Joan looked briefly at the sky. The sun still shone brightly in the sky above, signaling it wasn't close to nightfall yet. But when it did, she'd be fighting against wave after wave of hollow men alongside the very brigade that fought with her father so many decades ago. Despite the peril, she couldn't help but feel a little bit excited.

"Take a good look around first. Talk to the men and get ready. It never hurts to know who's got your back," Port advised.

"Good call," Qrow murmured alongside her. He had watched the conversation quietly and he gave a huge stretch. He noticed her looking and he winked. "What, do you like what you see?"

Joan's face heated up and she stalked away, hiding her blush from him. "S-shut up…Klein, can you please prepare a bath for me? I think I need it before I pass out from the stench."

"It shall be ready for you on your next visit to the Sanctuary, my dear," Klein replied. "And please kindly refrain from spilling any nasty fluids on the carpets; I just tidied them up."

"H-hey!" she protested. "I'm not exactly dripping anything!"

Klein's only response was an amused chuckle.

* * *

Port hummed a cheerful tune as he sharpened his sword on the lone grindstone in the fort. The old blade had started to get a little bit dull after the recent fight in the hobbe caves and he was glad that he was able to sharpen it up again.

More importantly, he was glad that Swift and Ben Finn were still alive. The two were seasoned soldiers, albeit from quite different backgrounds. Swift had grown up in a military household; his father and grandfather had been guards in service to Bowerstone in the years prior to Sparrow's reign. Ben was a much different story. The young man had once been a drunk and a pirate in Bloodstone, his uncanny skill with a rifle coming in handy and earning him a lot of gold. However, he sought to leave the unlawful side of his life behind and make something respectable out of himself while also traveling the world. When he was only nineteen, he enlisted into the Albion Army and quickly rose through the ranks thanks to both his combat prowess and charisma. He had a certain boyish charm that was simply infectious; even in times of a crisis, he never failed to keep the mood upbeat. They needed that leadership now more than ever.

"Finally left the old castle behind, eh?" Swift came up behind him and slapped a hand on Port's broad shoulder. "So, what's the news?"

"It's just as we hoped, Swift," Port answered with a smile. "Joan is a Hero."

"Just like her father was." Swift puffed on his pipe, ruffling his dark hair. He certainly hadn't lost a step due to age. "It would be very nice to see her in action. And what about that scruffy fellow with her? Husband?"

"Him?" Port jerked his thumb back to Qrow, who was currently slouched in a chair reading a book. "Oh no. He's another Hero, from the time of the Heroes Guild. Joan managed to break a curse laid on him. He was once the Guildmaster and it shows; he's remarkably powerful. A very good ally to have on our side."

"I see." Swift frowned a little. "Have you heard anything about…?"

"Lady Yang?" Port guessed. "No, not a word. I heard a few rumors in Brightwall about a noblewoman aiding the poor down in the capital's industrial quarter, but I don't think it's her. Logan had her executed and we both know he never goes back on his word once he gives an order."

"Have you told Joan about them?" Swift asked. He had obviously heard of the relationship between the noble and the princess before and knew they were close.

"No. I haven't," Port admitted, shielding his eyes from the sparks of the grindstone. "The last thing the princess needs is a distraction like that. Especially when she's feeling…conflicted." _'And that's putting it lightly. Poor girl's under way too much pressure.'_

"You mean the revolution?"

"Not just that, Swift. I've started to notice that the interactions between her and Qrow have gotten a little bit more…awkward, I guess is how I'd put it."

"…oh dear." Swift's face was filled with understanding and his old grey eyes flashed with sympathy. "Hmm, I see. Perhaps she just needs some time to herself to think about it and get her head in order. She may be a Hero, but she's still a person like the rest of us."

"That she is, old friend." Port lifted his sword up and inspected the blade, lightly touching his finger against it. It was back to being razor sharp, able to cut a swath through their enemies.

"More than we like to think."

* * *

If there was one thing Joan really liked about the Sanctuary, it was that it was always refreshing. Not just by being the perfect temperature regardless of where she was, either. It was just soothing. The entire place gave off a gentle magical hum, soothing the aches and pains on her body.

Also, Klein was very good company.

Her faithful butler approached her with a fluffy towel, his moustache ruffling in amusement when he saw the state of her current attire. "Had a nice trek through the swamp, did you?"

"Very funny." Joan rolled her eyes and took the towel gratefully. She really didn't know what she would do without him. "Is the bath ready?"

"Of course, my dear. I'll see what I can do with your current attire to make it a tad bit more pleasing." He wrinkled his nose at the smell. "Reminds me of the time we escaped the castle. Bloody sewers."

"Still afraid of bats?" she asked with a small smirk, looking over her shoulder as she went towards the steaming hot bath. "Good thing there weren't any in here, hmm?"

"Again, I must insist my dislike of them is merely a matter of personal hygiene," Klein insisted with a huff. "Please do not let Sir Port fill your head with nonsensical stories about me quivering in fear every time one of them so much as squeaks at me from the trees."

Joan let out a giggle at the thought and started to disrobe, kicking off her dirty clothing and leaving it in a haphazard pile by the door. Now fully undressed, she lowered herself into the tub and let out a soft groan upon entry. The warmth of the water started to ease her throbbing muscles and she leaned her head back. _'Now this is perfect. Just what I needed.'_

She fully relaxed into it and closed her eyes with a soft murmur. It was the first time in awhile that she had time to think all by herself and right now, she was feeling unusually conflicted thanks to the news she had gotten about Qrow and his curse.

The blonde didn't know what to think about it. She wouldn't deny that after spending quite a good amount of time with him and learning more about his mannerisms, he was rather charming. Brave, clever, skilled in battle, handsome, able to make her laugh, and comforting to have around. He was practically what a lot of maidens drooled over.

And yet despite it, there was an unusual pang of guilt. Hearing herself be called his soul mate felt like she had taken a dagger in the chest. Did it mean she had betrayed her relationship with Yang? _'What do I do? I don't know what I should do at all! Feels like I'm betraying Yang by getting closer to him. What would she do in this situation?'_

'… _she'd tell me to do whatever my heart and mind tells me is best. She did always say I was an excellent judge of character.'_ She sighed and flicked at the water in frustration. _'Dammit. I don't like this. But she's gone. She's gone and there's nothing I can do about it. I have to move on. I loved you Yang. But I have to keep moving forward. Even though it hurts. She'd want me to be happy.'_

Even if it meant her happiness stemmed from someone else. _'I never thought that I would end up starting to like him. Especially considering how we met. It wasn't what I'd call the best introduction.'_ Qrow of course had toned down the flirting a little bit around her, but he still did pass the occasional remark to compliment her form purely so he could see how much it would take her to blush. He definitely got results whenever he did, she hated to admit.

Joan groaned and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. The hot water was starting to lull her to sleep and she jolted up with a start when she heard Klein clear his throat. She lurched forward, covering her chest with a startled squeak.

"Pardon the interruption, but I have prepared a set of clothing much more appropriate for your current location," he said politely. "It's not as regal as I'm used to, but it is easier to move around in during combat. It is waiting for you in the dressing room."

"Thank you." Joan picked up the towel Klein had provided and made sure she was at least decently covered before stepping out. She dried herself off to make sure she wasn't dripping wet and followed him into the dressing room. The blonde hung the towel up over the cover to dry and she was handed a set of unusual combat clothing. It was dark green and made of leather, similar to that of a general in the army.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, pulling the shirt over her head and doing up the buttons.

"I found it when I was doing a bit of tidying up earlier," Klein answered. "I assumed it would be a lot more appropriate given that you are going to be fighting in a fortress at night."

"Well it certainly will be. Also less likely to be torn," Joan added, sliding the pants on. They weren't too tight, but they still complimented her form nicely. The thighs seemed to have a little bit of extra padding, presumably to protect against sword slashes and bullets. Good thing, too. She'd need the extra protection against a legion of hollow men.

The blonde finished putting on the provided clothing and she stepped out from behind the curtains to look at herself in the dressing room mirror. Her hair had gotten rather unkempt and messy due to her lack of treating it and she looked over her shoulder. "Klein? You think you can help me out with this?"

"Of course, madam. What would you have me do?" he asked, bringing over a few brushes.

"Just to tie it up. Can't have my hair constantly whipping me in the face in the middle of a fight," she said, taking the brush to start undoing the knots and tangles. She winced at the sharp pain and for once was a little bit jealous of Qrow. His short hair meant he would never have to deal with brushing or treating it.

She finished brushing her hair and Klein took a few ribbons to tie it up. The long ponytail was still sort of messy at the back, but it held a certain kind of rebellious elegance. Unkempt but fashionably so. _'Just like Qrow's.'_

"You know, those gloves would look really at home holding a riding crop or…oh what the bloody hell is it called? Generals use them to point at maps…a swagger stick! Such a delicious staccato…ahem. Nice gloves."Klein regained his composure and cleared his throat.

"How do I look?" Joan asked.

"You look like you're ready to lead a siege on a bloody castle," Klein answered earnestly. "Very commanding. It suits you nicely."

"Thank you." She smiled. "Well, I best be off."

"Good luck, madam."

* * *

Joan arrived back in the fortress and she looked around to see where Qrow had run off to in the time she had taken to get cleaned up and changed. The sun was finally beginning to set, meaning she had been in the Sanctuary for a bit longer than she'd have liked. A few of the other soldiers in the fort were talking amongst themselves and she spotted one struggling to hit a couple of mugs he had set up as target practice. Every shot of his went high and wild and the soldier let out a stream of profanity that would make a noble blush, slamming his old iron rifle down in frustration.

Instead of looking for Qrow, she decided to lend the poor bastard a hand. "What's wrong?"

The soldier turned to face her as she approached him and picked up his rifle again. "I can't seem to improve my damn aim! I don't know what I'm doing wrong! If this keeps up I'm going to end up being tossed to the damn hollow men as a sacrifice!"

Joan's eyebrow rose skeptically at that claim and she folded her arms. "You don't seriously think that's going to happen, do you?" _'That seems a little preposterous, especially for the Swift Brigade. If it were my brother's elite soldiers, I'd believe it. They don't exactly seem to care about serving the people as they should.'_

"Well okay, maybe not," he admitted sheepishly. "But still! I don't want to die here because my aim is rubbish!"

Joan hummed and watched him take another shot. "Your hand is too unsteady. Try and take a deep breath to relax, then fire on your exhale."

The soldier did as she said and fired again. His bullet hit the mug and he smiled broadly. "Thank you, thank you so much. Now Captain Finn will stop teasing me about me not even being able to hit a bloody boulder if my life depended on it."

Joan left the soldier to practice and she spotted Qrow on the far side of the fortress. He was once again buried in a book and he looked up at her approach. "Hey. Nice look, by the way. Much better than that damn skirt."

"Thanks. Klein picked it out."

"Heh, he certainly knows how to make sure you're dressed for the occasion, doesn't he?"

"He's a butler for a reason," Joan pointed out dryly. "So, what book are you reading now? The same one about the Triumvirate?" Avo knows he was near obsessed with it, given his fascination of history.

"Nope. A couple of soldiers were asking about it earlier, too," Qrow replied, flicking to the next page. "They seemed disappointed when I told them it didn't contain any violence, swearing, or drunken orgies. Bloody imbeciles. They ought to do more proper reading instead of making up half of their disappointing vocabulary."

"…what is, in your opinion, the height of stupidity?" she asked.

Qrow smirked and glanced over at a heavily bandaged soldier who was getting treated for what looked like burns. "Oi, Jammy! How tall are you!?"

Joan didn't even bother trying to hide her laughter as the soldier stood up proudly to answer. "Approximately six feet tall and still standing!"

Qrow turned back to her, closing his book and leaning back in his chair. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yes. It most certainly does." Joan snickered. "And to think that's the same man I have to be introduced to when I go up on the wall later." _'Oh dear. I do hope I can keep a straight face on the mortar.'_

"I don't envy you, Blondie. He's a bit of an eyesore." Qrow grimaced. "I'll be on the front gates myself with Port and Swift. Here's hoping we can keep those damned undead out of here, huh?"

"Yeah." Joan looked up at the sky. It was setting even further now, meaning she had to go up to the wall now. "I'll be off then." She felt a slight pang in her chest as she left him behind, scaling the steps up to the fortress's walls. _'What's wrong with me? Ever since that hobbe cave…no, don't think about it. Just think about the upcoming siege.'_

True to his word, Captain Finn was waiting for her next to the mortar and he gave her a friendly smile. "I don't suppose you've ever used a mortar before, being cooped up in the castle all day, but there's nothing to it. There's always a slight chance of maiming of course, but I'm sure you'll pick it up."

He peered down and scowled when he saw Jammy having a drink with one of the other soldiers. "Jammy! Get your arse up here! It's time to show her the ropes!"

"Yes, sir!" Jammy gave him a sloppy salute and scurried up the steps in a hurry. He had several teeth missing and thick bandages covered his body, some of them stained red with blood. He didn't seem to be in any pain despite his injuries and he gave the princess a grin. "It's true what they say about me you know. Jammiest soldier in the army. Seven hundred and twenty four wounds and still standing." He seemed awfully proud of that.

Ben Finn snorted in laughter at the princess's slightly disgusted reaction. "Don't worry; you get used to him. After awhile, he's hardly revolting at all. He'll be your loader."

"I look forward to it," Joan said dryly.

"Keep up the sarcasm and he'll think you're flirting." Ben smirked at her retch.

Jammy joined them on the wall and he stood next to her as she crouched by the mortar. "Right now, my life's going to be in your hands, so let's make sure you know what you're doing, alright? Grab the mortar; we'll do some practice shots."

Joan grabbed hold of the mortar and swiveled it around, her muscles groaning under the stress. It was a lot heavier than she initially thought; it would take some getting used to. Lucky that she still had a few hours of daylight left.

"Alright, see that target over there?" Jammy pointed to one scarecrow he had set up in the distance. "Let's make it blow up."

Joan fired the mortar, surprised by the lack of a kick, and the round destroyed the scarecrow in one blast. Jammy cheered excitedly. "Goodbye Mr. Scarecrow! That was bloody brilliant!"

"Marvelous work," Ben praised. "Alright, move on to the next one."

Joan spotted the second scarecrow, this one a little further back, and she fired again. The scarecrow fell in smoldering pieces and Jammy chuckled. "You have a real talent for this, lass. Just one left."

He suddenly frowned and looked at Ben. "Hang on. Captain, I don't recall setting that one up."

The scarecrow came to life with a roar and several hollow men sprouted from the ground. Each of them fired their rifles at them and she ducked under them, hearing the captain yell out a warning to the rest of the fort. "They're here! Start firing! Hold this position!"

"Quick, to the left!" Jammy warned. "They've brought reinforcements!"

Joan had just finished taking out the first wave when the second sprouted up. Their old rifles were clunky and slow, but there were just so damned many of them. For every four she killed, twenty more seemed to take their place. How was one mortar going to be enough to hold the fort?

"Point that thing to the right! Incoming!" Jammy yelled over the sounds of gunfire. He and Ben were both firing at the hollow men with their rifles in between loading the cannon, trying to do their best to hold their position and defend the mortar.

Joan heaved and pushed the mortar to line up a series of shots. A valley of mortar fire rained down on the hollow men and Ben gave his approval. "Nice work! Quite a few corpses for the grinder!"

"We've got another line shuffling up in the middle!" Jammy warned. "Bloody hell, there's no end to them!"

"Stand fast!" Ben ordered. "We've outlasted the bastards before and we'll do it again!" He ducked under a stray bullet and grumbled before firing back. "Get back in the graves where you belong!"

Joan fired another shot, but before it could wipe out the next wave of hollow men, they turned back into wisps and flew away. "What…? Where did they go?"

A loud banging on the rear gate drew her attention and she heard a cry from Major Swift. "They're at the rear gates! Men, take positions!"

Joan jumped down from her position on the mortar, landing on the ground below with a huff. Her sword was drawn and she stood next to Qrow, who had his own weapon at the ready.

Port and Ben took up flanking positions next to Swift, the captain yelling over his shoulder at the men. "All guns on the gates, we can't let them through!"

The wooden gate thumped and started to break, splinters of wood falling down. It wasn't going to last and Joan's grip on her sword tightened. _'This isn't good.'_

Two soldiers rushed forward to try and keep the door from falling down, heaving with all their might. "Push! Push!"

"I can't hold it!" the second one yelled in panic. They struggled for a few more seconds, only to be crushed to death by the door collapsing on top of them. Wisp after wisp poured into the fort and the real siege began. The siege of the hollow legion.

' _We can do this. We just have to hold on!'_ Joan parried a blow from a rusty axe, blasting the hollow man away with a lightning spell. She glanced over her shoulder and watched in horror as Jammy took a sword through the chest. "Jammy!" _'No!'_

The soldier's eyes bulged briefly, looking down at the rusty sword lodged in his body. "W-well…m-my luck's…finally run out…" His body fell to the ground with a wet thump and with an angered growl Joan's body started to glow with dark red magic. His life had been in her hands and now he was dead. _'His life was in my hands…and I failed. He's dead…'_

Anger built up inside her and her breathing quickened. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the sounds of battle and the cries of warning from the other men fighting off the hollow men. Then, everything turned sodden and crimson.

* * *

Qrow finished dispatching an armored hollow man with ease when he felt a sudden change in magical power. It was similar to the burst released when Joan learned Archon's Cleansing in the hobbe cave, only much darker. He turned around and saw the princess with her head lowered, surrounded by a dark red aura. It emitted pure malice and he took a step towards her. "Joan?"

Joan slowly lifted her head up and his heart twisted. Her once bright blue eyes were red and empty, her voice little more than a rasp. "Kill…"

She lunged towards a pair of armored hollow men with her Time Control, using it in the way Qrow had taught her. Her sword was a blur of motion, the ancient runes glowing red with rage. Bright angry Will lines covered her body and with a enraged shriek she incinerated them. The hollow men were reduced to ash and she slaughtered another two with quick slashes.

Qrow had seen that kind of magic at work before once, when Jaune had fought against Jack of Blades in the Heroes Guild. Infernal Wrath. Everything that got in the user's way was seen as an enemy, and they wouldn't stop until they were either killed or passed out from the strain it put on their magic reserves.

He had to get her out of that state before it was too late.

"Joan! Snap out of it!" He tried to stop her before she could harm one of the soldiers, reaching out to grab onto her arm. The blonde snarled and thrashed in his grip, desperate to break free.

Her foot connected with his shin and he grimaced. He'd definitely have a bruise. However he only held her tighter, focusing his own magic and pouring it into her. _'Joan, it isn't your fault! You weren't the reason he died! Come back!'_

His magical reserves were dropping rapidly from the amount he had poured into her and she grew limp against his chest, her eyes drooping. The fiery aura around her died and her breathing slowed. She'd be alright, though she would be a little delirious for a short while. Unless her reserves were a lot bigger than he initially thought they were. It wouldn't surprise him; Jaune himself had a larger pool of magic than even Weaver and Maze did, and they had spent decades honing their craft.

He kept her standing upright until she regained consciousness, though he noticed that something was off. Her eyes had a familiar green tinge to them, filled with wisdom and power. "Hello, Qrow. Been a long time, hasn't it?"

Qrow nearly dropped her on the floor. No, it wasn't Joan. At least, not fully. He closed his eyes and sensed a familiar aura, humming. "Is that you, Ozpin?"

"Indeed." The blonde nodded. "I have temporarily taken control of her body. And I must say, I can see why you are so struck by her. Quite lovely assets, wouldn't you agree?"

"Is now really the time for this?" Qrow asked exasperatedly, whirling around to cut a hollow man down. "We're kind of in the middle of a battle here!" _'Never thought Ozpin would be able to take control of her, being in another dimension. Guess he has a powerful bond to her.'_

"Oh, right." Joan's body moved with much greater speed than it normally would have and spun around a pair of hollow men, her sword cutting them into pieces. "This is a little more snug than I'm used to, I must admit."

Qrow could only roll his eyes and he launched a fireball from his fingertips, burning an armored hollow man. The heat warped the armor and it toppled in a sack of bones and metal, leaving one less enemy for them to fight. He dodged another clumsy strike and took the creature's head off, scoffing. Compared to balverines or hobbes, these were way too predictable and easy. Their strength relied on numbers and that had dwindled massively since the beginning of the siege.

Ozpin in Joan's body made short work of the remaining hollow men and he faced him with a smirk. "Well, as fun as this has been, I'm afraid I must go. She's coming to again. Farewell."

Joan's eyes returned to their normal blue and she blinked, looking around in confusion. "W-what happened…?"

Qrow stepped forward and hugged her, drawing a surprised squeak from the blonde. "Nearly lost you for a second there. Glad that you're okay."

"Qrow…" Joan didn't pull away from the hug and looked at the soldiers cheering her name.

"Victory! All hail the princess!" Swift yelled triumphantly. "Now, who wants a pint in celebration!?" There was an instant crop of hands from Port, Ben, and the men of the Swift Brigade.

"What happened to me?" Joan asked quietly. "I remember Jammy dying and then…just this anger came over me."

"Joan. Not all magic is used for good," Qrow murmured, ruffling her hair. "Some of it is used for great evil. The spell you unlocked is one of those dark arts, called Infernal Wrath. It drives the user into an unstoppable rage."

Joan's eyes widened and she looked around in a panic. "Is—"

"Everyone's fine, don't worry," he soothed. "Ozpin and I helped you out. Poured some of my magic into you to drown out that anger while he took control of you briefly."

"Did he…?"

"Do anything beyond what he usually does and tease me? No. He just took care of the remaining hollow men."

"Thank Avo for that…" Joan breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey, Qrow…?"

"Yeah?" He was trying to think of a way to get Ozpin out of his predicament when Joan leaned up and kissed him.

"Thank you. For everything," she murmured.

Qrow looked over at Port, who had witnessed everything with a raised eyebrow. The old soldier gave a simple shrug as if to say, 'if you must', and Qrow breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, so Port wouldn't kill him for it.

Qrow kissed her back.

"You're welcome."

 _ **A/N: And that does it. Finally done. Bout time I got this out, sheesh. Two months is a long ass time to wait to actually get it out and published. I blame my other works for the delay, despite me actively trying to stay on schedule. Sorry. Anyway, hope you liked it and I hope I'll be back soon!**_

 _ **A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


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